


This Isn't a Nightmare

by HalfShadows



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Civil War Team Iron Man, Dark, Dark Tony Stark, Flashbacks, Hearing Voices, Illusions, Inspired by books, Jealousy, M/M, Nightmares, Not A Fix-It, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Stephen and Steve fight over tony, Stephen is a player, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, battle of the Steves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2019-09-21 20:24:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfShadows/pseuds/HalfShadows
Summary: Tony gave him a wild smile, even as his heart leaped against his rib cage. He needed Stephen to know that he could do this. “They’ve never frightened me.”“Care to prove that?” Stephen’s bright eyes fell to her mouth.A dare.The blood in Tony’s veins surged hotter.Tony didn’t usually think before kissing anyone. One moment he just found their mouth on top of his, or his on top of theirs, followed by tongues seeking entry as hands fumbled around his body. But he didn’t suppose kissing Stephen would be like that.Despite the summary, this will be a fairly dark story *Laughs maniacally**This is a story I made by stringing together my favorite scenes from my favorite books so that it made a coherent plot*





	1. The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I initially wasn't going to post this because it is definitely not my work, but I got convinced to share it. I have basically inserted Marvel characters into some of my favorite book scenes and strung together the different scenes in order to make a story out of it. If you don't want to read something that isn't completely the authors own words then this fic is not for you! If this doesn't bother you then welcome! I will put the novels I used at the end if you all want to try to guess which books I have used! This will draw the most from one of my all time favorites: Marie Lu's Young Elites. If any of you know anything about that book you will know that this is going to be a dark fic. You have been warned!
> 
> Enjoy!

Something cracked inside of Tony. It might have been his heart, breaking while Steve walked away.

For a long time after they left, he sat there, leaning against the wall, trying to steady his breath. His eyes were trained on the fallen shield in front of him until intense pain registered in his mind. When he diverted his gaze to his chest he inhaled sharply as he realized why. The arc reactor was shattered, leaving Tony’s suit without power. Where Steve had slammed the shield, sharp metal was digging into his chest, hungrily slicing his body. Blood seeped between the metal plates and bolts staining the suit an even darker crimson. Friday was unresponsive and Tony was slowly losing feeling in his left arm, rendering the possibility of taking off the suit unrealistic. He would have to remove it manually, and he was no condition to do so.

He was trapped in his own creation.

Waiting to die, he sat there, leaning against the wall, hoping that someone would come looking for him. Trying to keep from thinking that no one would.

It took him a while to realize that he was slowly rocking back and forth, perhaps to stay sane, perhaps just to keep warm. He hummed an old lullaby too, one his mother used to sing to him when he was very little. He did his best to imitate her voice, a sweet and delicate sound, but his notes came out cracked and hoarse, nothing like what he remembered. Eventually he stopped trying.

 _It is so damp and cold down here._ Melting snow trickled from above the archway and flowed freely, mocking Tony’s confinement. When the sun dipped below the horizon, the shelter was thrown into a darkness so black that he could barely see his legs splayed out in front of him. The entire night was filled with the sound of his shallow breathing and the howls of wildlife. _If Steve hadn’t destroyed the arc reactor, I would have some light down here — some measure of comfort._ The bitter thought plagued him, he couldn’t help it: the darkness felt suffocating, like it was crawling into his very being and making a permanent home inside of him. The cold made his entire body tremble painfully.

In a restless haze he flitted in and out of dreams featuring Steve. Tormented by memories tainted with darkness, Tony’s mind forced him to remember how beautiful Steve’s laugh was only to have him relive the memory of the shield being slammed against his face and chest. He kept dreaming Steve was holding him, only to fight him off moments later. He wasn’t sure which phantom touch hurt more.

After the first few nightmares he woke up disoriented, wanting nothing more than for Steve to abandon Bucky and come save him. They’d both apologize and everything would be fine. But when he lost track of how many nightmares had come and gone, when the night had blurred into one cruel punishment, he woke with strangled cries, fearing Steve’s touch. He still heard Steve’s cruel laughter and felt the pain of deceit long after the dreams ended.

At some point Tony lost track of what his nightmares were about. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were closed or open, if the monsters he was seeing were in his head or in the shelter with him. _What is happening to me?_ Hours passed and his fear mixed with anger.

When the next morning came, Tony was hyper-aware of the situation. He felt how his hair was matted with sweat and saw that the suit was caked with blood. Beneath the metal his fingers itched with the urge to scrub clean. _Is it strange that all I can think about is how filthy I am?_ Tony thought how if Steve were there, he’d murmur something reassuring and hold him tightly until he was warm. _He is the reason I am stranded here, sitting in my own misery, but he couldn’t have realized this would happen…right?_ Still, Tony couldn’t help but wonder if Steve was okay.

Each time the new day arrived, he was forced to relive the battle. Scorch marks, blood stains, crushed wall and rubble marked the scene before him. A fallen shield and scraps from a metal arm. _What the hell did we do?_ The snow added a reflective sheen to everything around him, as if this were all some nightmare he couldn’t wake from. _Is this all my fault?_ Heat and ice coursed through his veins and his muscles throbbed. He lay there on the unforgiving cement, trembling, disbelieving, his gaze once again fixed in horror on the sight of the shield lying only a few feet away. _Too close. It’s too close to me._ The more he stared at it the more he wished Steve had taken the weapon with him.

The smell of iron filled his nose and he yearned to wash away the blood caked on his face. He wasn’t sure if it was from his own wounds, Bucky’s or Steve’s. The thought made him nauseous. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered, unsure of who he was talking to, his voice rough and hoarse from dehydration and silence. He tried and failed to drag himself away from his father’s creation, away from the shield and out into the open where someone could see him if they cared enough to look. _This is all wrong._

But that was a lie. He knew it, even before he thought it. _Do you see how I take after my father? I had attacked someone I was supposed to love, supposed to protect, out of anger. And I had relished every moment._ “I didn’t mean it!” he shrieked again, trying to drown out his inner voice.  But his words only came out in a thin, hoarse jumble. “I just wanted to— fix—I just wanted—to make things right—I didn’t—I don’t—”

Tony had no idea how long he stayed there. All he knew was that eventually the blood loss and dehydration caught up to him and he drifted in and out of delirium. When he next came to, his lips were chapped and cracking painfully and his cheeks were stained with tears. He tasted salt mixed with the metallic tang of blood as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Some hours later, he woke up and his eyes focused on a new addition to the battle scene: the ghost of his father, keeping him company. After that, every time Tony woke up from a feverish dream, he saw Howard standing in the corner, laughing at him. _You tried to escape from me,_ he said, _but I found you. And still, you’re a failure, still pathetic. You couldn’t even avenge your own mother._ Tony told Howard he was glad he was murdered, glad that he was dead. Tony told him to go away. But Howard stayed.

 _It doesn’t matter anyway_. _I’m sure I’ll die soon too._ Tony gave up fighting his father. He gave up on trying to live.

It’s been three days, or maybe it’s been four. Actually, Tony had no idea how long it’s been, and he couldn’t quite remember where he was exactly. _Steve’s coming, I think? But he should be here already…No — that’s not right._

Something streaked across his vision. There was a flare of light, a soft flashing sound, and suddenly a figure appeared in front of him. _What is it?—no,_   _it’s a man_ , he thought. _Who is this?_ This man was _not_ an illusion—Tony could sense his reality, the solidity of his figure that his father in the corner did not have. Yet when he felt a rough pair of hands grab him, Tony’s eyes surged open in surprised panic and he struggled with what little strength he had left. _This isn’t real. This is a nightmare._

It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.

In one swift move his armor was split open and removed, and Tony was dragged up causing a burst of pain to shoot through his entire body as he was moved from the spot he had been frozen in for three days. Immediately Tony collapsed in on himself, too weak to hold himself up. But the man caught him and lifted Tony effortlessly into his arms. Tony tensed, overcome with terror and unsure of what to expect. But he was too weak to protest. His head leaned wearily against the other man’s chest, too tired to fight. Though his muscles burned in agony and his head was throbbing Tony tried one final attempt to escape the solid man’s grasp. His surge of energy resulted in nothing more than a slight wiggle —  his body too fragile to struggle.

The man brought his mouth close to Tony’s ear, his breath the first warmth Tony had felt in too long. “Stay still,” he whispered. “And hold on.”

“I can walk,” Tony found himself muttering, but his words slurred together and he was too exhausted to think clearly. _Maybe hell has a delivery system,_ his exhausted mind tried to reason. As darkness descended upon him the last thing Tony noticed was the peculiar attire of the mysterious figure who had saved him.

He was wearing a cape.


	2. The Boy: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for all the kudos and comments, it made me want to post a bit earlier than I had planned. 
> 
> There will be a flashback featuring child abuse in the next two chapters so if any of you are triggered by that you could probably skip these next two and still understand the story.
> 
> Enjoy!

The day had been one of bliss, but the night held something else in store. Acting on the hope of happiness, the boy had listened to his desires, had gone with his emotion. But he had been careless, and so he had been caught: his father had come home early from work to see his son on the couch, his shirtless body covered with a sheer film of sweat and lust, pressed up against someone else. Pressed up against another boy.

His father had been far from pleased.

Later that night, the boy had dared to sneak out of his room, where he had been condemned to spend the rest of his days, and crept out into the house, along the stairs, hoping to hear his parent’s discussion. The boy’s hand rested awkwardly on the staircase. His father had broken his fourth finger years earlier, thinking physical pain was a more fitting punishment than verbal abuse, and it had never healed properly.

But the boy knew all too well just how much words could hurt him. They had his entire life.

Yet somehow what he heard now was shocking him: talk of camps and programs, training and therapy that could somehow “fix” the boy. He already knew his father was cruel, so what hurt him the most was the lack of protest from his mother, a women he desperately needed to stand up for him. _It will be all right,_ the boy tried telling himself. _At least you can leave your father behind. It won’t be so bad._

He swallowed his emotions with careful practice and crawled back to his room. There, his gaze wandered around, settling finally on his window.The boy’s heartbeat stilled for a moment. Rain drew angry lines down the glass, but through it he could see the deep blue cityscape, the rows of towers and alleys.

He continued staring out the rain-slashed window for a long while.

_Tonight. Tonight is the night._

The boy hurried to his bed, bent down and dragged out a bag. Inside of it was fine watches, signed memorabilia, tablets, tech, and anything he could sell for food and shelter. _Just another thing for Father to love about me. I steal._ He’d been stealing from around the house for months, stashing things under his bed in preparation for the day when he couldn’t stand to live with his father any longer.

The boy rushed to his closet and pulled out an armful of clothes, then hurried about the room to collect his electronics and notes. The boy worked in feverish concentration. He added the belongings carefully into his bag, hid it behind the bed, and pulled on his shoes.

He settled down to wait.

Hours later, when he was certain his father had left his workshop for bed and the house had stilled, the boy grabbed the bag. He hurried to the window and pressed his hand against it. Gingerly, he pushed the left pane aside and propped it open. The storm had calmed some, but rain still came down steadily enough to mute the sound of his footsteps. The boy looked over his shoulder one last time at his bedroom’s door, as if he expected his father to walk in. _Where are you going?_ he’d say. _There’s nothing out there for a boy like you._

The boy shook the voice from his head. _Let him find me gone in the morning, if he even notices._ He took a deep breath, then began to climb through the open window. Cold rain lashed at his arms, prickling his skin.

“Darling?”

He whirled around at the voice. Behind him, the silhouette of his mom stood in the doorway, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stared at the open window and the bag on the boy’s shoulders, and for a terrifying moment, he thought she might raise her voice and shout for Father.

But his mom watched him quietly. He felt a pang of guilt, even as the sight of her sent a flash of resentment through his heart. _Fool_. He grew angry that he felt sorry for someone who had watched him suffer so many times before. _I love you,_ she used to say, when the boy was small. _Daddy loves you too. He just doesn’t know how to show it._ The boy wondered why he pitied those who were loved by his father.

Still, he found himself rushing to her on silent feet, taking one of her hands in his, and putting a slender finger up to his lips. She gave him a concerned look. “You should go back to bed,” she whispered. In the dim glow of night, the boy could see her worried expression, “You’ll get in trouble if he finds you.”

The boy wrapped her in a hug and squeezed her tight, then pulled back and let their hands touch. They stayed there for a long moment taking in the small amount of comfort they could give each other. It was something they had not felt often. Usually his mom would pull away from him, knowing that his Father did not like to see them close. This time, though, she clung to him. As if she knew that tonight was something different.

“Don’t say a word to him.” The boy pulled away farther. “It will be safer for you that way.”

She didn’t reply; instead, she swallowed and looked down the hall toward the father’s room. She did not hate him in the same way that the boy did, and the thought of going against his teaching – that her son was nothing, that to love him was a foolish thing – filled her eyes with guilt and confusion. Finally, she nodded. The boy felt as if a mantle had been lifted from his shoulders, like she was letting go of him. A few tears slipped down her cheeks and he wiped them away.

“Be careful out there. Stay safe. Good luck.” She offered meekly.

They exchanged a final look and he turned away, walking to the window and stepping onto the second-floor ledge. He nearly slipped. The rain had turned everything slick and his converse fought for grip against the narrow ledge. He made his way along the ledge until he reached a balcony, and there he slid down until he dangled with nothing but his trembling hands holding him in place. The boy closed his eyes and let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Marie Lu's The Young Elites.
> 
> Please leave your thought below, I love hearing from you all!


	3. The Boy: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas (or happy holidays) everyone! Here is an early chapter as a gift. I hope you all have a wonderful day.
> 
> There is child abuse in this chapter so if that is triggering I would recommend skipping this one.

His legs crumpled beneath him when he landed. The impact knocked the breath from his chest, and for a moment he could only lie there in front of the house, drenched in rain, muscles aching, fighting for air. 

His focus narrowed. He needed to get out of there and was about to do so, when his eyes landed on his father’s car. Temptation corrupted the boy. He wasn’t sure what demon possessed him: maybe it was the memory of his parents driving away in that car, leaving him behind yet again to go search for a fallen hero, or to go to some other trip the boy was deemed unfit for.

He had broken three windows and was pelting rocks at the windshield when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

The boy froze in his tracks, realizing the mistake he had made. At first the steps seemed distant, almost entirely muted by the storm, but then, an instant later, they turned deafening. The boy trembled where he stood _._

_Father._

Before he could think anything else, the boy saw him, a sight that sent terror rushing through his blood – his father, eyes flashing, materialized through the fog of wet midnight. In all the boy’s years, he’d never seen such anger on the father’s face. The man’s hand closed around the boy’s arm like an iron shackle. “What are you doing, son?” he asked, his voice eerily calm.

The boy tried in vain to escape the grasp, but the father’s hand only gripped tighter until he gasped from the pain. His father pulled hard—the boy stumbled, lost his balance, and fell against the man. Mud splashed his face. All he could hear was the roar of rain, the darkness of his father’s voice.

“Get up you ungrateful little shit,” he hissed in the boy’s ear, yanking him forcefully up.

The boy glared at him and pulled his arm away with all his strength. The grip slipped against the slick of rain—his skin twisted painfully against the man, and for an instant, he was free.

But then the boy felt his father’s hand grab a fistful of his hair and the other close around his chin. “So ill-tempered. Why couldn’t you be more like Steve?” he murmured, shaking his head and hauling the boy toward the house. “Where were you planning on going? Who else would want you? Do you realize how much humiliation I’ve suffered, dealing with a worthless son like you? Do you care at all that your _romantic deviances_ hurt my legacy?  Do you know how hard it is for me, always apologizing for you?”

The boy screamed. He screamed with everything he had, hoping that his cries would wake up the people sleeping in the houses around him, that they would witness his father’s abuse. He wondered if they would they care. His father yanked his head back and clamped down on his throat, strangling the boy’s cry. “You’re coming home with me now,” he said, pausing for a moment to stare at the boy. Rain ran down his cheeks. “Good boy. Your father knows best.” His father tightened his grip on the boy’s neck and pulled his hair harder.

The boy gritted his teeth and stared up at him. “I hate you,” he choked out, barely a whisper.

His father stuck him viciously across the face. Light flashed across his vision. The boy stumbled then collapsed upon the doorway. Seconds later his father’s hand was back around his neck. _I’ve gone too far,_ the boy suddenly thought through the haze of terror. _I’ve pushed him too much._ The world swam in an ocean of blood and rain. “I know who you really are. Who will ever want you? You’re a disgrace,” the father whispered in his ear, filling it with his smooth, icy rage. “You’re going wherever the hell I decide to send you, you’re going to fix yourself, and so help me, I’ll _kill_ you before you can ruin my legacy.” He hit the boy again.

When the boy finally escapes the bruising and the beating at the hands of his father that night, he feels so much hate that he barely notices that every breath is painful. The next day, and every day after, the voices come. _I am Tony Stark,_ the phantoms whispered that night, speaking his most frightening thoughts in a chorus of voices dripping with hatred — _Tony’s_ hatred. _I belong to no one. On this night, I swear to you, Father, that I will rise above everything you’ve ever taught me. I will become a force that this world has never known._

_I will come into such power that none will ever dare to hurt me again._

The boy never forgot his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, again, The Young Elites by Marie Lu
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! They are what makes this story worth writing.


	4. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos! I really appreciate it. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think in the comments — it helps me decide when to post and how you all feel about the direction this is going in!

Stephen was there the first time Tony bolted awake, his face twisted in a silent scream. Immediately, Stephen sensed the confusion in the other man as he tried to discern where he was and watched as the man’s muscles tensed and his eyes widened in concern. He appeared to be half unconscious still, but Stephen watched as Tony tried to fight off the fog. When Tony’s eyes locked on to Stephen’s, his swollen face crinkled at the unfamiliar face. Tony glanced around the room, his bandaged body trembling slightly.

“Steve?” he asked weakly, the word slurred in fatigue. Stephen shook his head in a silent no and disappointment flickered across Tony’s face before being schooled behind a mask of indifference. Stephen watched as Tony nodded his head once – wincing with the sharp movement. He slumped back into his pillows and sleep took him once more. Stephen replayed the quick interaction in his mind. With one small nod Tony’s story seemed to unfold – his lack of surprise, but urgent distress at Steve’s absence. What happened between those two? 

Another day passed with Tony flitting in and out of consciousness. Stephen stayed by his side, watching Tony struggle with endless nightmares. He could sense the darkness eating away at Tony’s rest. What monsters are you fighting Tony? They seemed to be living things, sucking away the warmth in Tony. It wasn’t the first time he had felt this dark presence, but Stephen still shuddered, a chill running through his body. Each time Tony woke from his personal hell, he was half-delusional, muttering about ghosts and promises. Still, each time he asked about Steve, and each time Stephen watched his heart break a bit. Until one time, Tony woke up lucid.

Stephen could tell Tony was fully conscious this time because his face was perfectly indifferent, showing no signs of the hurt or panic that Stephen had seen him wear in the days before. This time when their eyes met, Tony stared coolly back at Stephen, his face cautious and unreadable. Slowly, and without breaking eye-contact Tony reached for a glass of water on his bedside and downed the whole glass. Just as Stephen was growing peeved at the man’s lack of action, Tony spoke, his voice hoarse with lack of use: “You’ve got the wrong room. The fantasy role play convention is down the hall.” His eyes narrowed, “Or if you’re some new kind of paparazzi, you’ve really got the wrong room.”

Stephen refrained from rolling his eyes and watched as Tony shifted his gaze to a new topic. The bedridden man attempted to cover a wince as he tried shifting the pillows behind him to get more support. He would have helped Tony with that, but the man had just insulted his cape.

Instead, Stephen waited patiently as Tony struggled for quite some time, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Finally, when the fiasco was resolved Stephen spoke, ignoring Tony’s previous comments. “My name is Doctor Stephen Strange—"

“You don’t look like a doctor.” Stark told him blatantly, but his words were less confident than before, his breathing more labored. Damn, Stephen thought, realizing that the painstaking effort he just mocked had probably used up all the energy Tony had regained in his fitful rest. The man was starving and freezing to death only a few days ago, Strange. Not to mention the fact that he was severely dehydrated and delirious from blood loss when you found him.

Still, Stephen didn’t miss a beat in the conversation: “I'm well aware. I’m not your doctor.” He raised his shaking hands in his usual explanation. Tony didn’t say anything, his expression barely changed, but Stephen saw a shift in his eyes. Not pity, but something like understanding mixed with curiosity. It perplexed Stephen.

They stayed silent, each man sizing the other up, neither one wanting to make a move. Eventually Tony seemed to decide that Stephen wasn’t a threat and gave him a single nod, “Okay Doc.” He sunk down into his pillows, turning his head to the side. Stephen’s eyes traced Tony’s gaze to the small windowpane on the hospital door, his only link to the outside civilization. His face was cool and unconcerned, but Stephen could feel the pain and guilt radiating from Tony’s posture and shallow breath. Tony’s eyes strained as they searched for a familiar face they both knew he would not see. Eventually Tony passed out again, and Stephen wasn’t even sure he’d remember their interaction.

As he watched Tony breathing level out, Stephen contemplated what had just happened. The whole situation was odd. He had heard that Tony Stark was a force to be reckoned with, a sarcastic, talkative showman who could spin elaborate tales, calm or start a tempest with a flurry of words. He had been told that if he and Stark were in a room together, their maniacal egos would not possibly fit.

The guarded and reserved man before him was not what he expected.

There was some overwhelming grief, anger or fear that was clawing at Tony’s very personality and self. Stephen could sense an unnerving darkness ebbing underneath the beat of Tony’s heart and it concerned him. There was something dangerous about that darkness, and it was something Stephen did not think Tony could fight off alone. The fallout between Steve and Tony seemed to have ripped to shreds something essential to his survival.

Stephen shuddered. He would help Tony overcome this burden and piece himself back together, he decided. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	5. Hospital Part II

The next week passed in a similar fashion. Despite his protests, Tony never left the hospital room and, for the most part, no one was there aside from Stephen and the medical staff. Stephen had watched as Tony had shut out those who loved him one-by-one, at an alarming rate; Tony had no intention of allowing anyone to see the hurt within him and he methodically shut out anyone who decided to help.

Pepper had visited a few times, but Tony was so distant in their meetings that a tearful Pepper had told Stephen it was too hard to help him when he was like this. He doubted she’d be back. Agent Hill had visited several times, but Tony was just as indifferent with her as he was to Pepper: reluctant to offer any information on his wellbeing, and flat out refusing to discuss the events of Siberia or Steve. Rhodey had called several times, but Tony had told him that the next time they spoke should only be when Tony had found a way to get his best friend walking again.

By the start of the second week, when Tony had grown stronger and more self-sufficient, Stephen was Tony’s only companion. Still, neither was sure about the other. At first whenever Tony had talked to Stephen it was attempts to convince him to leave Tony alone. When that had failed Tony had sulked for a while, until he realized that Stephen could distract him with scientific theories and sarcasm.

Mainly, Tony would stay silent, writing down equations and designs on Starkpads and notepads and any surface he could get his hands on. Only when his fatigue took over would Tony break his quiet, asking Stephen to tell him about his time as a doctor or dispute theories and mathematics together.

Tony had yet to directly ask Stephen why he was spending all his time with him, and for that the doctor could not have been more grateful. “ _Because I’m afraid you are being consumed by darkness_ ”didn’t sound like a promising answer.

By the time another week passed, most of Tony’s bandages were removed, and he could walk without assistance. The swelling in his cheek had disappeared, returning his face to normal. He looked dangerously thin, Stephen noted, and his thick hair was a mess of tangles, his beard unkempt. Several times, when Tony thought he wasn’t looking, Stephen caught Tony studying himself carefully in the mirror, watching how the hospital’s florescent light illuminated his gaunt face and scarred chest.

It was clear Tony was seeing a stranger.

“Have you heard of the Mystic Arts?” Stephen found himself saying one night. He’s not sure why he mentioned it, but it might have to do with being unable to take Tony looking upon himself with disgust so many nights in a row. Maybe an introduction to a whole new realm of thinking would give Tony some enjoyment.

“What, like magic tricks?” Tony looked slightly amused, if not intrigued.

Stephen slipped on his sling ring and performed a simple forcefield spell. “Definitely not tricks, Tony,” he said a bit smugly. He suppressed a grin as he watched Tony’s eyes light with wonder. Tony’s hand started feeling around his bedside table for his notebook, his eyes never leaving Stephen’s creation.

Tony looked at him with a maniacal grin. “You’re a wizard, Harry!” The Doctor groaned and disbanded the forcefield. Immediately an onslaught of questions poured out from the mechanic. It was exhausting to answer them all, but seeing Tony finally energized made Stephen believe it was worth it.

 *** 

With only one more night in the hospital remaining, Tony fiddled with some gears he had convinced Stephen to get for him, his voice broke the silence with unusual tenacity, though his eyes stayed glued to his hands. “How did you know where I was that night?” For a moment Stephen’s mind went blank as he struggled to think of possible reasons to give Tony.

The truth was not an option.

Neither of them had ever acknowledged that Stephen had pulled Tony from death’s icy grip, and Stephen had hoped the other man didn’t even remember that night. But clearly he did, and clearly Stephen needed to make up a reason for going to Siberia. He needed to do it quickly, too, because Tony’s eyes had shifted from the gears to Stephen’s face, and his furrowed brow signified he was searching for answers.

Stephen cleared his throat, “The AI in your suit sent a distress signal to the Avengers Compound before it stopped working. As half of your team is on the run and I had sent Thor to find his father, I knew the compound was unguarded and uncared for so I went to secure the building. That’s when I found the suit’s coordinates.” Stephen met Tony’s scrutinizing gaze, hoping his lie was deemed acceptable.

For a moment, it seemed as if Tony was going to call his bluff, but instead the brunette went back to fiddling with the gears. “So it was Friday who saved me then, and you’ve been taking all the credit.” A small smile danced across Tony’s face. “Here I was thinking you were my knight in shining armor this whole time.” He shook his head and resumed his usual silence.

The corner of Stephen’s mouth twitched in amusement and he settled back into his chair. But when he pulled out the book he had been reading, he ignored the words on the page. He didn’t know why it unnerved him that he wasn’t telling Tony the truth, but even so — he didn’t think the man should ever find out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unpleasant visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to figure out a standardized way of posting but I'm struggling. I feel like they are too short for only once a week? I have a lot written now, but I know when school starts up again I'm going to be writing way less so I don't want to post too quickly. 
> 
> Oh well, I'll figure it out. 
> 
> Also, it's a little slow going right now, but I'd compare this fic to a big roller coaster: we're building it up right now and then there will be a big drop and crazy twists and turns. So hang in there!
> 
> I will now shut up and let you guys get to it!

When Ross walked into his hospital room, Tony didn’t know if he should be more worried about what the suit was going to say or the fact that Tony might punch him before he could finish speaking. Tony scoffed as Strange stood up to shake Ross’ hand. _He doesn’t know whose hand he’s shaking._

“Glad to see you’re doing better Tony” Ross said without a smile, too lazy to try to seem sincere.

“Is there something you need, Ross?” Tony didn’t try to hide his displeasure. This man had been the leading cause of the so called ‘civil war.’ Tony would be happy if he never saw him again.

But, of course, that would never happen.

“Yes, Tony, there is. I’ll cut through the bullshit. I need you to clean up the mess that you created.” Ross held out an excessively large binder to give to Tony, throwing it down unceremoniously on Tony’s legs. “I’m placing you in charge of the Avengers compound. You’re going to make friends with the media, you’re going to fix the Accords,” his eyes narrowed, “and you’re going to get Steve Rogers and his deranged band of misfits back to the Avengers Compound.”

Tony gave Ross a practiced grin but his veins heated at the sound of Steve’s name. That single name thundered down around him, freezing him in place. Ross went on to say something else, but he couldn’t hear him over the roar in his ears. It didn’t matter what Ross was saying, though, because he was not going to play this game anymore.

Tony shook his head. “That sounds fun, but I think I’ll pass. I’ve been wanting to take a vacation, and it would be hard to do all of that from Italy.”

He had no idea where Steve had gone after he’d left him on the cement ground. And he didn’t want to wonder about it. He didn’t want to replay every encounter he’d had with him: every word they’d said, every look he’d given him, or every kiss they’d shared. Each memory hurt, behind his eyes, in his lungs, and in his throat, growing uncomfortably tight whenever he recalled their last encounter.

It felt like weakness to keep thinking of him. But Tony knew he’d have had to be completely unfeeling to have banished Steve from his thoughts after all they’d experienced. And Tony never wanted to be unfeeling. But he didn’t want to be consumed with him, either.

The tiny hospital room felt smaller than it already was.

He risked a glance at Strange, but the Doctor was staring out the room’s window, apparently not interested in how Tony’s life was falling further into pieces. In truth, Tony could care less about running the compound or being the punching bag for the media – he had basically been doing that his whole life. No, it was the idea that Ross wanted Steve and the others back at the compound that had Tony on the verge of a panic attack.

 “Quit playing around, Stark.”

“As much as I’m flattered, I prefer to play with myself in private.” Tony prided himself on his ability to hide his crippling worries with smooth sarcasm. Usually he didn’t even know what he was saying until he was halfway done saying it, but it worked out most of the time.

“Tony.” Ross warned.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Ross’ jaw twitched, the only sign of his irritation. “How’s this for nice? You are doing what I order you to do, or you’ll be locked up in the raft and when we find the others we’ll throw them in there with you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you completely disregarded direct orders, destroyed an airport, and allowed Rogers to escape with Barns.”

“If I had known you would take it so personally…” Tony grumbled. Inwardly his stomach was churning. He hadn’t had enough coffee for this conversation, and the idea that he had _allowed_ Cap and Bucky to escape made his vision blur.

Ross gave Tony a wink and said, “I know you’ll make the smart choice Tony; you’re a wise guy, after all.” Ross laughed loudly. Tony hoped Ross’ wink was just a tic. He had never been overly fond of them. His father liked to wink, usually after he’d done something nasty.

Tony forced himself to laugh with Ross. He imagined putting the suit on and blasting him with a repulser, then watching his face turn purple and anguished with frustration; he pictured himself leaning over him, looking on patiently, with his chin resting in his hands, admiring his writhing body and the power of his own inventions.

Ross turned to leave, a triumphant look on his face. “You are an investment and a risk, Tony. In other words, you need to _prove_ that you are worth something to me. Or you’ll be behind bars before you know it.” The door banged shut. Tony grabbed a pen and opened the binder.

 _You are worthless, boy,_ his father’s voice called to him. Tony signed the paper. _They will never accept you._ He turned the page and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Young Elites was sprinkled into this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided that chapter titles are overrated. Anyways, I just got back from seeing Into the Spiderverse and it was amazing! On another note, I know that this is a slow build but I'm laying some pretty important foundation now and I promise we will get to the juicy bits in a few chapters!
> 
> As always, please leave a comment or kudos - they really make this even more fun to write!

As Tony signed the papers thoughts tore at his mind. Questions about loyalty, truth and justice ate away at him. How could he fight to get the UN to forgive Steve when he didn’t even know his own feeling about the man? _This is ridiculous. This is horrible. This is epic, epic bullshit._ He carded his fingers through his hair and rested his chin on his fist. _Shut up Tony. Ross was right, most of this is your fault anyway and all you have to do is fix things. You’re a mechanic it’s what you do._ Tony fought down his rising panic and swallowed, burying it deep beneath his skin. _Just fix your own mess and when Steve — no — when everyone is back you can move on._

“He betrayed you, Tony, so stop blaming this whole thing on yourself.”

Tony suppressed a small yelp. In his misery he had forgotten Strange was there. He silently cursed himself for not being more aware of his surroundings _and for_ _muttering your thoughts out loud, idiot._

When he registered what Strange had said, Tony frowned. “For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.” The words hung tensely between the two men, and both were surprised by the matter-of-fact nature Tony just spoke in.

Tony watched as Strange struggled internally and decided to ask, “I thought… were you and he—”

“You don’t know anything about me, Wizard.” Tony’s voice carried steel.

"Everything I need to know is written all over your face,” Strange contradicted.

"Right now the only thing my face should be conveying is that it thinks you're a jerk."

The doctor bowed his head as if to say, exactly. Though he was on edge Tony felt the corners of his mouth pull upward. Though he’d never tell the wizard, Tony enjoyed their verbal sparring; their wits were well-matched.

Tony did not want to ruin their banter with the past. He did not want Steve Rogers to taint this friendship.

Tony grimaced. Just the thought of his name was enough to cause Tony to feel intense emotions. Which emotions he felt, though, seemed to vary daily. Sometimes it was pity or remorse and other times disappointment. Recently, it had been anger.

Tony had hoped to reply to Stephen’s jab with something scathing in return, but to his horror all that came out was: “I want to pretend it didn’t happen, so I need you—I need you to pretend along with me. No reminders, no questions, no cautions.” He was disgusted that his voice held such pleading in it.

Stephen nodded in a silent promise.

Immense relief flooded Tony. He had too much pain in his past to relive it every day. Memories were dangerous things. You turned them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you’d find an edge to cut you. _I know what it is like to be trapped, and to watch ruination. Each day the memories weigh a little heavier. Each day they drag you down that bit further. You wind them around you, a single thread at a time, and you weave your own shroud, you build a cocoon, and in it madness grows._

Tony could feel something festering inside him. Something had broken inside him and its darkness was threatening to pull him under. He had seen so much suffering, endured so much pain.

He wanted it all to stop.

 *** *** *** *** 

Stephen was worried the darkness of Tony’s memories were going to pull him under completely; he could feel something tainting his soul. He was worried that the last remaining bits of humor and sarcasm might be sucked away entirely, leaving nothing but fear and anger. Stephen didn’t know why Tony was this way, how this happened — if it was just Steve or something else entirely. But he did know that he was afraid for Tony.

Stephen discreetly watched as Tony poured over the documents Ross gave him. His pencil was flying across the pages and he was muttering to himself as he often did when he worked. Usually Stephen loved to hear Tony’s rambling thoughts about various approaches or ideas behind his work, but this time it was different. Now, Tony’s mutterings were disparaging and weary, holding none of the curiosity and vigor that he usually worked with. This was not a project Tony wanted to have, but here he was, slaving away and giving it his all.

Stephen wasn’t surprised.

As Stephen grew tired watching Tony he decided to sleep there for the night; he’d be here in the morning anyway to help Tony finally leave the hospital. The chair was comfy enough and he had done it before. Stephen’s eyes lingered on Tony’s figure, taking in his weary eyes and drooping posture.

He wondered what it was like for him. He wondered if Tony thought he was going to be happy with the Avengers.

He wondered when he’d realized he wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Young Elites quotes are in there!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! I started up college again so the posts might be bit slower. The action will start in a few chapters though!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one! The Young Elites is quoted several times again.
> 
> Good luck for everyone starting up school again!

Tony read the letter again. Then again. And again. His eyes took in each sharp stroke of ink, each wavy curve of Steve’s signature.

 

_I’m glad you’re back at the compound, I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself.  I know I hurt you Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now I was really sparing myself. I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do, it’s all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise if you, if you need us — if you need me, I’ll be there._

 

Since Siberia he had tried to feel nothing about what happened. He was afraid that if he began to feel, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He was afraid that the emotion would be like a wave sucking him under.

It wasn’t the first awful thing he had endured and pushed into the back of his brain. That’s how he’d always coped, and if there was another, better way, he did not know it. He was trying his best to exist, and that was all he could offer.

Tony focused his attention on the floor until he could breathe evenly again, trying to make his panic dissipate.

A sickening feeling crawled from his stomach to the surface of his skin as his emotions clawed their way out _._ He instinctively brushed his hand down his arm, as if attempting to rid himself of a disease.

So Steve was sorry. Sorry, always sorry. _What in the world could you accomplish with an apology?_

They had both made mistakes. They had trusted both too little and too much. _But, goddammit, I had tried so hard._ He’d given it everything he had. He had always done the best he could, and yet, somehow, it had never been enough. No one cared what he did. They always turned their backs on him.

Why couldn’t he be like that?

Tony was suddenly angry. _Why must I lose everything that I care for? Why is love such a weakness?_ He wished, for an instant, that he did not need such a thing.

Maybe he didn’t — hate could keep him alive where love would not.

He had tried to be better than them, and he had failed. Despite Steve being on the run, despite them leaving nothing but destruction in their wake, it was Tony who was being punished. Despite Tony being the one who sign the accords, it was Steve who the people wanted back.

 _If you cannot be better than them, you must become so much worse._ The whispers that had accompanied Tony throughout his life surged with his anger. They were strange — something dark and vengeful, tempting and powerful. A weight pressed on his chest. He was afraid. Intrigued.

In a rapid decision Tony crumpled up the letter, taking satisfaction in the way it crunched and withered in his hand.

He would not give another thought toward Steve and his apologies. Steve was nothing more than the mission — a task on a to-do list that he would cross off when the time came for it.

He had loved Steve Rogers, and it had cost him everything.

It was a mistake he would not make again.

Tony ran his hands over his face, trying to wipe the frustration away. It was close to midnight, and as usual he’d had trouble sleeping. His dreams struggled to rival the horror of his actual life, but, since Siberia, the threat of his dreams had terrorized him to the point that he couldn’t calm down enough to rest anymore. He would toss and turn all night and all morning, his heart racing, finally falling into a headachy tormented sleep in the late afternoon, when the rest of the world had woken

He had taken to wandering the corridors of the compound like a restless spirit, entering various rooms, thumbing through different texts, fiddling around in his workshop. Usually Stephen or Maria would find him and guide him back to his room, telling him if he couldn’t sleep, then he ought to just close his eyes and lie still. That at least his body could rest, even if his mind wouldn’t. In the morning they were kind enough to act like they had never seen him.

He didn’t feel up to explaining the letter if either of them found him up now, however. Standing up from his desk, he tossed the note in the wastebasket. Yet when his hand moved to do the same to the flip phone he hesitated, his eyes narrowing.

Giving his head a soft shake Tony slid the phone in his desk drawer and made his way to his room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you are all doing well! 
> 
> Trigger warning for child abuse, you won't miss anything if you have to skip the chapter. I can summarize it if you want.

When Tony was 13 he was still naïve enough to believe that, if he tried hard enough, his father would come to love him.

He waited eagerly for his parents to return from their trip. They had been abroad for the past four months, and while Howard was off working hard to find Captain America, he had been working hard to make his father proud. He had studied hard in school and stayed out of trouble.

Tony had even made a whole array of robots with various functions. From bots that could fold his laundry to ones who could recognize tools and organize tools, he had created six bots that he was immensely proud of.

It didn’t make a difference though. After dumping off Captain America memorabilia in Tony’s room, Howard went to shut himself in himself in his workshop—not sparing a warm embrace or kind word for Tony. Just the comment that Steve would have made a great son.

Something in Tony snapped.

He tore at the red white and blue posters Howard had just put in his room. He picked up a replica shield and threw it at all the reminders that his father had given him to try harder, be better.

Be Steve Rogers.

His lamp crashed to the floor and the sound echoed throughout the house. Panic bubbled up inside him when he took in the damage around him.

Tony’s door flew open, the lock had been removed ages ago. Howards face was contorted with rage at the demolished room. Fear hit Tony like a cement block and he started to scramble away. He knew what was coming next.

But when Howard’s face turned into a sneer Tony suddenly didn’t know what to expect. Silently, Howard picked up the shield and motioned for Tony to come with him, and he followed his father to the work room. He couldn’t breathe out of sheer terror for what awaited him.

But maybe his father would see his inventions and be proud? Maybe Howard would see what Tony could offer and gain control of his anger.

But not even his inventions could save him.

Howard dragged Tony to a stop in front of his robots. “Why are your toys in my office, son?” His voice was ice. His words were salt on a wound that had been festering in Tony’s heart for longer than a child should know.

This was what abuse was: knowing you were going to get salt but still hoping for sugar day after wretched day.

Before Tony could answer Howard’s arm slashed out in rapid aggression. Tony flinched to avoid the attack — but he was not the target.

He cried out as his robot was sent flying across the room, pieces scattering everywhere. His hard work destroyed in one swift movement. “Honestly, Tony, I think you can do better than this crap,” his father mocked.

Howard clamped down on Tony’s arm and dragged him to the next robot. “A bit elementary, don’t you think?” As Howard smashed yet another invention Tony realized he was clenching his fists so hard he had drawn blood.   

Howard reached toward him and held Tony’s chin in his cold palms. A long silent moment passed between them. _I’m sorry they’re not good enough,_ Tony wanted to say, _I’m sorry I’m not good enough_. But the words were choked by his fear, leaving Tony quiet, numb. He imagined himself disappearing behind a dark veil, vanishing to somewhere his father couldn’t see.

Howard’s gaze shifted to the few inventions in the room that hadn’t been demolished yet. “Go ahead,” he said, nodding at it. “Finish the job. Destroy them.”

Tony hesitated.

His father’s voice coaxed him on. “Come now. They’re worthless anyway.” His grip on Tony’s chin tightened until it hurt.  “Do it. Use the shield.”

Shaking, Tony did what he said. He grasped the shield in a hand slick with blood and sweat and lifted it into the air. His father smiled. Tears shined in Tony’s eyes. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, but his words faded away at the look in his father’s eyes.

Tony slammed the shield into the intricate creations he had spent so much time designing. He shattered and beat at the metal. Parts fell and bounced everywhere in the act of chaos. It made something dark stir deep within him.

“Very good, Tony. I like it when you embrace your true self.” He took one of Tony’s trembling hands in his own. “Did you enjoy that?”

Tony started to shake his head, but Howard’s eyes make him freeze. His father wanted something out of him that he didn’t know how to give. Tony’s shake changed to a nod. _Yes, I enjoyed that. I loved it. I will say anything to make you happy, just please don’t hurt me._

Howard’s eyes narrowed, and fear flooded Tony’s senses. He squirmed to escape his father’s grasp, but the man held him tightly. “Of course you did. Because you always destroy everything I work hard for. Destruction is what you do best.”

Tony was confused. He didn’t know how to answer. “I’m sorry,” he finally manages to utter. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—”

Howard cut him off with a stern look. “Are you worthless like your inventions, Tony?”

Tony shook his head in panic. _No. Please. Give me a chance._

“So prove it. Be something better.”

Then Howard broke Tony’s finger at the joint.

 

Tony woke with a silent scream on his tongue. His finger throbbed, as if it had been broken only a moment ago instead of decades. He rubbed it instinctively, trying to knead away the pain. Dark tides churned in his stomach, the familiar ugliness that his father liked to nurture.

He threw off his sweat soaked sheets and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, taking a moment to steady his breathing. He kept his eyes on the floor, careful to avoid the shadow of his father looming in the corner of his room. He could feel Howard’s eyes on him. He could feel the memory in his nightmare eating away at him. _Worthless._

Tony stood up in a flurry and rushed to his bathroom, dry heaving into the sink. He supposed he should be glad he didn’t eat enough to actually vomit. But when the worst of it had past, he studied the scarred, damaged part of his chest in the mirror, the circles of exhaustion under his bloodshot eyes.

Then he picked up the soap dispenser and smashed the mirror into a thousand pieces. He stared at his cracked reflection until he could no longer stand it. Eventually he returned to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Young Elites and also a few lines of poetry from Amanda Lovelace.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this is an attempt to fix a little plot hole I had (Ross being way overpowered and Tony not fighting back) 
> 
> I didn't want to focus on politics of it all and I struggle with writing works with many characters so this is what I came up with! Hope you all like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! We are only a few chapters away from the meeting of everyone I promise!!! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments! The next few chapters after this one are some of my favorite so I am excited to share them with you all!

The next day Tony got to work. In between taking pain meds and going to press conferences he attacked his punishment feverishly, with the same intensity that one would hastily beat away a cockroach from their front door.

The work was suffocating, and each hour he was faced with some memory of Steve. He didn’t leave his office all day. It was better if he didn’t have to face others in his humiliation.

It took almost all of his energy to make it through the day, not because of the work he had to do—he’d been completing boring phone calls and paperwork for most of his life. No. It was his thoughts that slowly consumed him. The anger and confusion that burned inside of him tore away at his will to continue.

Late that night he staggered to his room. He was concerningly grateful that he managed to collapse on his bed and not the floor.

Then he woke up the next day and did everything all over again.

 

Two years passed.

 

For two years Tony slaved away, working feverishly on creating a way for the Avengers who were on the run to be pardoned. It was not a joyous existence. The media needed someone to blame the “Civil War” on, and they chose Tony. He was the face of everything wrong with the Avengers and getting Steve back would signify a new beginning.

It made him sick to think about.

After the first few weeks, after he had stopped being doped up on pain meds, his common sense had kicked back in. He had tried to fight Ross – he had disobeyed orders, appealed to the higher-ups and tried to lawyer his way out. But, as usual, nothing worked out for Tony.

During those three days in Siberia a lot had happened. They thought that he was dead until Strange found him – so they revoked his consultant status and made him an Avenger. Posthumous was better than not at all they had thought. Now, it would have been helpful not to be one; he wished he had his freedom back. In an act of desperation to keep the damage of the Civil War under wraps and prevent another catastrophe Ross had been placed at the head of a new government body – The Avengers Council – which basically gave him the power to make Tony’s life miserable.

But during the following two years, in the aftermath of all that change, the worst was how he had lost his two best friends. He had spent so much time pitying himself and dodging Pepper’s calls and company responsibilities that the board of directors pushed him out of the company. It was either that or she would lose her job.

To a board of directors and a team of bloodthirsty lawyers the only thing that mattered was money and image – loyalty had no place.

Tony had eventually faced Rhodey, but only after he had shirked all of his other duties for a week and built his friend a new way to walk. Rhodey had been thrilled and had offered to help Tony out with all of the management things he had to do now, but every single time Tony looked at him he was reminded of how he had failed to save his best friend. It was hard, but he had declined Rhodey’s offer — the man was off somewhere classified, saving the world without the dangerous help of Iron Man.

For two years Tony had watched as his life had fallen apart.

He rubbed at his face, trying to push away the exhaustion; his gut churned with anxiety and anger. Now, on top of it all, Tony’s hard work would be paying off with a cruel and twisted reward. He had finally gotten the UN to come to an agreement that would allow the Avengers who were on the run to return with very few consequences, but Ross still wasn’t done with him. Now he had to fix the Accords so that Steve would agree to it and make the media believe that they were all a team again.

Years with Howard had taught Tony to stop believing he could ever get away from the life people were eager to set for him. He didn’t know why he thought it would be any different when he had been officially placed in charge of the Compound.

In exactly a month, Tony would be living under the same roof as Steve. The Avengers would be reunited.

When Ross told Tony this news, he schooled his face into nonchalance, but it wasn’t easy. His heart beat like a trapped bird. There would be nothing easy about this.

Still, Tony flashed Ross a million-dollar smile, gifted him with a witty insult and strode out of the office like he hadn’t wanted to strangle the man.

He had braved worse things, and he could take this. A ripple of anger threatened to break free. What could he do? He had no power.

Yet _,_ he vowed. He had no power yet.

***

     The month passed quickly.

     Each morning Tony dragged himself out of nightmares and found no relief in waking. Each new day meant he was another day closer to having to see the Avengers. His panic grew like a wound festering inside of him.

The night before the Avengers would be arriving Tony roamed the corridors. He wanted to enjoy the freedom of being able to not worry about what familiar face would would be lurking around the corner for one last night.

He had never wanted time to stop before, to slip into a crawl so slow that one heartbeat would take a year, a breath would take a lifetime, and a touch could last an eternity. Usually he wanted the opposite, for time to speed up, race ahead, so that he could escape any current pain and move forward into a new, unblemished moment. Time would heal all wounds.

But not this one. Not yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Young Elites played a big role in this!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Here's a chapter with some dialogue (woah)! I'm hoping for those of you who are getting tired of a mopey angsty Tony the dialogue in the next few chapters will pick up the pace and let Tony and you guys get out of his own head. 
> 
> The next chapter is one of my favorites so be prepared!

The next morning Tony woke late, his eyes heavy with sleep and mind muddled by nightmares.

_What am I going to do?_

He tried, as he always did, to push his turbulent memories away. But what if he never could? _Good,_ a part of him thought. Maybe he shouldn’t be allowed to forget the mistakes he had made.

The thought made his stomach flip.

What if he were to leave tonight? Go in to hiding and run away from Ross and the Avengers. He wouldn’t have to face Steve and the others, wouldn’t have to fight to suppress his anger and resentment toward himself and others every day. _Stay calm, Tony, and think._ It didn’t seem possible to stay off the radar all alone. They had finally honed powers and they trusted each other enough to work together—he was just a man in a tin suit.  

He contemplated his second option. Doing things alone hadn’t exactly worked out well for him. He needed to make some allies. A friend. He shivered when he remembered his reaction to the crowd of media after the announcement, how whatever had happened had forced a darkness from within him and brought it to the surface.

What if that was who he was? _Be true to yourself,_ his mother had told him once when he was trying in vain to win his father over. But that’s something everyone said and no one meant. No one wanted you to be yourself. They wanted you to be the version of yourself _that they liked._  

Fine. If he needed to be liked, _loved_ , then that’s what he’d do. He’d get Stephen to be his friend somehow, and he’d continue to stay out of the way of the others. He would be the defeated and humble person they wanted him to be. He would make himself disappear like they all wanted.

By the time dawn finally crept into his room and bathed it in pale gold, he was exhausted. He stirred when someone knocked faintly on the door. With a groan he called out, “Come in.”

The door opened a little. It wasn’t compound personnel, but Stephen. Tony didn't remember when Stephen had started coming to his room and he thought that he probably should have been upset about it, but somehow he couldn't be bothered to care. Stephen had forgone his normal denim and a casual t-shirt for his wizard cloak and outfit. His hair was done perfectly, as usual, and the strands of grey shimmered against his darker locks. His jewel-toned eyes glittered in the dark light and he looked even more magical than Tony remembered. Tony turned away his stare in embarrassment.

“Good afternoon Tony.” Stephen started, hesitating as he decided what to say next.

Tony shoved a pillow over his own face, “Go away Strange, this isn’t your room” he tried to say, but it came out as a muffled groan of exasperation. 

“The others will be arriving shortly.” Stephen’s voice carried a heavy weight with it, as if he knew what type of burden he was placing on Tony.

“Thank you, Mr. Sunshine and Smiles,” Tony gritted out, peaking his head out from under the pillow. “And why exactly did you feel the need to tell me this?” He knew he was being harsh, but frankly he just wanted the conversation to end.

“I thought you might want to reconsider your decision.”

“No.”

 “ _Tony_.”

“Fine. I’m considering…I’m considering… and — what’s this?” He threw the pillow at Stephen, “It’s still a no!”

Tony fell back in bed with an _oof_ when Stephen threw the pillow right back at him. The man shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you have the emotional capacity of a child.”

“Better than the brain of one.” Tony shot back. Taking an exaggerated and labored breath, he groaned and forced himself out of bed. Pulling on a t-shirt he spoke, “They’ve all lived at the Compound before, I don’t see why I need to be there when Steve and his merry band of misfits return.”

 Stephen drew the shades open, making Tony wince as his eyes struggled to adjust to the rapid change of light. “It might make things easier for all of you if you try to start fresh.”

A bubble of scary laughter threatened to rise up in his throat, and Tony had to bite his cheek to keep it from coming. “Nothing about this is going to be easy, Wizard.” He tried his best to dismiss Stephen: “I’ll see you later. You can let me know how the welcoming party goes later if it will make you happy.”

Tony breathed out an exhausted sigh of relief when Stephen left without protest. _So much for befriending him,_ he chided himself. But just because Steve and the others were returning today did not mean he needed to see them. Tony had been given the job of fixing the Accords — he would do that and no more.

Of course, Stephen wanted otherwise and seemed determined to have Tony quit his denial. He had no idea why. After two years spent working with Stephen, the man was still an enigma to him. It wasn’t’ that he was secretive or mysterious, it was his continuous presence. Throughout Tony’s struggle with Ross, the Accords and everything else, Stephen was still here.

He had stuck around.

It was something Tony didn’t understand. No one ever gave him their kindness without hoping for something in exchange. Why would Strange be any different? Weren’t they all the same? _They all want to use you, use you, use you until they get what they want, and then they will toss you aside._ Tony shuddered at the sudden viciousness of the voices.

 _This has to stop._ His hands were shaking like Stephen had just told Tony he was about to strangle the life out of him. Nothing he had done up until now had proven Stephen to be anything other than kind. _Hasn’t he shown me, time and time again, that he was willing to be my friend if I was willing to let him?_

It had been so long since Tony had ever wanted a friend that he wasn’t sure he even remembered how to go about making one. He desperately needed someone on his side, and it seemed that Stephen genuinely wanted to help him. Tony just had to meet him halfway.

He wanted to trust him, but a lifetime of mistrust had made it impossible.

He needed to find a way. Otherwise he might not survive working with Steve, living with those who had betrayed him. He might not survive at all.

After a quick excursion to the kitchen to inhale several shots of espresso, Tony made his way to Stephen’s office. He walked slower than he normally would, and all of his senses were on high alert. Despite successfully making the trip unnoticed, his heart was hammering by the time he made it to Stephen’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text from Legendary and Young Elites is in this chapter. Would recommend these books to anyone!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, hope you all survived the polar vortex if you were in those areas. It was very horrible. 
> 
> I messed up and kind of forgot about this chapter - so its actually the next one after this that is my favorite and I can't wait for you all to read it. Its when he sees Steve for the first time! 
> 
>  
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading!

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Tony, you heard me.”

“No. I heard you say that I would be attending a Welcome Back Gala tonight, and there is no way you just said that. So I ‘ll ask again: ‘I’m sorry, what?”

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “You’ve gone to countless boring parties before and pretended to enjoy them, I don’t see why this is any different.” He carded his fingers through his hair and tried to appeal to Tony’s rational side. “Besides, Ross told me to tell you it was mandatory, and, I quote, ‘Didn’t want to hear about you catching the bubonic plague like your last excuse.’”

Tony finally changed his stony expression, raising a single eyebrow in disgust, but what could he do? Stephen knew if Ross wanted Tony to go somewhere, he had to follow, like a dog on a leash. “I don’t like you right now.” He settled on saying.

“Oh, no, how will I survive?” Stephen gripped his chest like Tony had delivered life-threatening news. When Tony didn’t react he sobered his tone: “I’ll be there the whole time, Tony. We can just stand in the corner making fun of everyone and get hammered.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth edged up and Stephen thought he couldn’t have looked any less convinced. His eyes were dark, so dark that sometimes they seemed wholly empty. Like Stephen could fall to his death in them.

It took some time in silence, but Stephen felt the air between them ease from a guarded hostility to something that felt to him like acceptance. Tony’s shoulders were still bunched up with tension, but when he tilted his head toward Stephen, he saw it for the subtle invitation it was. He took a step closer.

Stephen tightened his lips, lost in his own thoughts, and then met Tony’s gaze again.

 “It will be fine,” he whispered.

Tony wondered what type of delusional world Stephen must live in to think such a thing.

 

***

 

“God damnit!” Tony swore after he stubbed his toe on the bed post as he tried to tie his bowtie and put on shoes at the same time. “I swear if I have to get ready for another one of these stupid events without Pepper ever again, I will throw all of you suits into a river and drown you in muddy —”

Tony heard a low, deep and unnervingly familiar chuckle.

He told himself not to turn around. Not to give into his curiosity. But being told no—even from himself—only made Tony want to do the opposite.

Stephen strutted into his room with amused eyes fixed on him. He was dressed in a sharply tailored suit, in inky shades of navy blue and gray. He looked both clean-cut and daringly playful. 

“Please don’t stop such an interesting speech on my account,” he said, returning Tony to the present moment. “I’m sure I’ve heard much more colorful curses.”

“Did you just insult my use of profanity?”

“I thought I asked for more dirty words.” Stephen’s voice pitched so low Tony swore it curled the laces of his dress shoes that refused to get on his feet.

But this was Stephen. He talked like this to everyone, flashing his devastating smile and saying wicked and beguiling things until he got what he wanted. Tony knew, because he used to _be_ Stephen.

“What are you doing here? Why are you always in my room?” Tony asked.

Stephen’s eyes widened enough to betray surprise at his sharp tone, yet his voice remained pleasant as he said, “I’m picking you up, isn’t it obvious?”

“I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

“When are you going to learn that it is okay to ask for help, Tony?” Stephen’s voice had lost all of the humor it had previously carried.

“As soon as I need help, you’ll be my first call.” Tony didn’t miss a beat.

“Just a second ago it looked like you needed help putting your shoes on.”

Tony looked across the room at a shoe, lying where he had kicked it away in irritation, the other was on him, but united. But as soon as he looked away, he was spun around to face Stephen. Two shaky hands reached for his bowtie. Tony raised his head but refused to meet Stephen’s eyes as the other man tied his bowtie for him.

Just as Tony began to search for something to say Stephen broke the silence, as if he could feel Tony’s anxiety.

“Tony?”

“Yes?”

Stephen stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “I’m not going to put your shoes on for you.”

“I would fight you if you tried.” Tony shot back, grateful for the return to sarcasm.

After a few more quips and jabs Stephen left the room, telling Tony to be in the lobby in 20 minutes. Tony begrudgingly agreed.

Tony held his head. His thoughts would not focus, attacking him with hopeless memories of Steve and vicious judgements about what would happen when he saw the Avengers that night.

He could not help thinking that everyone at the gala would exploit any pity on his part, any weakness that he showed.

So he would not show any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes from Legendary and The Darkest Minds


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for posting this so late! And to make matters worse, this isn't even the chapter I've been wanting to post, the next one is! I' promise to get that one up on time — it's just been crazy in school for me. I originally had longer chapters and decided to break them up more so I wouldn't run out of material, but it has me confused over which chapters are which, so sorry about the false hope!
> 
> In other news, I'm having second thoughts about the fic - I was going to make it have a dark end with a twist (think evilness and betrayal), but now I'm not so sure I want to go down that road. What do you guys think? Happy or dark/foreboding? Or do you not care either way? 
> 
> Thanks for everyone who leaves comments and kudos!

Stephen and Tony arrived at the gala fashionably late — it was not something they had needed to discuss. They were Stephen Strange and Tony Stark, and they could do what they wanted.

The very second Tony entered the room every bone, muscle, and joint in his body snapped to attention. But as Stephen had said, they kept to the corners of the room and made dull conversation with dull people.

But boring was good; boring was predictable. If Tony’s world flipped on its head one more time, he would crack.

As the minutes passed, he grew slightly more comfortable and his breathing was less labored. He hadn’t seen them yet, but he figured if he stayed away from large groups of people he might not have to see his old teammates at all.

 But when Stephen had slipped away to the men’s room Tony realized that they had drifted to the middle of the room and any inkling of comfort he had, fled instantly. He suddenly became aware of just how many eyes were on him. Their interest clung to him as if he were the night’s entertainment.

  No longer were people looking at the Avengers. He swore their intrigued gazes and painted eyes had all jumped to him, to see how he would react when he first saw his old team.

  Tony had used to like attention, but he definitely never would have enjoyed this level of scrutiny. It made the stifling room feel small and cage-like. Slowly and with expertly manufactured calmness, Tony made his way to a corner of the room, until his eyes caught on the devastatingly handsome man on the other side of the room.  

Steve.

Tony’s already anxious stomach did another flip.

Steve looked more daring than usual, he’d traded out the old-fashioned suit he normally favored for a high-end cut in nevermore gray. But his tall boots and the silk tie around his neck were both deep shades of blue-black smoke. He looked like a freshly woken storm, or a beautiful nightmare come to life so he could personally haunt Tony.

Tony considered darting underneath one of the tables. He wasn’t supposed to see Steve. If anything, Steve was supposed to spot him from far away at the ball. He was supposed to be dazzled by Tony’s suave look, and jealous when he spied him flirting with another man. He was not supposed to see Tony nervously standing in a corner by himself.

“Relax,” Stephen murmured, sliding back in his place next to Tony. “We’re not going to convince anyone you’re carefree and happy about this if your eyes keep darting around as though you can’t wait to escape.”

“I think I’d prefer prison to this, you should notify Ross for me.” Tony tilted his head toward the ceiling above, where iron chandeliers swayed back and forth as if they, too, wished to flee.

“Don’t look at him. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” Stephen took Tony’s chin in his fingers, tremoring slightly, even with the gloves he was wearing to hide their shakiness. “Let’s give _them_ something to look at.” Stephen’s eyebrows were raised with mischievous desire.

Around them, hissed words and torrid conversations mingled with softer sounds of flowing liquor, hushed laughter, and clicking heels. But when Stephen’s lips parted a second time, Tony only heard the melodic sound of his voice as he whispered, “I know it’s not just him that’s making you nervous, Tony.”

“You’re giving yourself far too much credit.”

“Am I?” Stephen dropped his hand from Tony’s chin to his neck, soft leather resting against his pulse. He stroked slowly, just a delicate brush of his gloves, which unfortunately made his cowardly heart beat faster.

“Relax,” Stephen repeated. “The only thing you should think about is that you’re more desirable than anyone else in this room. Every person in the room would kill to be here with me.”

“You’re definitely giving yourself too much credit now.”

Stephen’s laughter was surprisingly disarming. “Then tell yourself everyone wishes they were me, dancing with you.” With a grin Stephen must have stolen from the devil, he looped an arm around Tony’s hips and swept him onto the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Legendary in this one and the next!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is everyone! I really like this chapter and would love to hear what you all think of it!

For someone who had made it sound as if he was concerned about his reputation in his time as surgeon, it surprised Tony how much Stephen acted as if he couldn’t care less about what everyone else thought. Another dance was currently under way and he cut directly through all the other couples. He was completely disrespectful, yet far more skilled than anyone Tony had ever danced with.

Stephen’s every movement was carelessly graceful, matching the musical cadence of his words as he murmured in Tony’s ear, “The key to a charade like this is to forget it’s an act. Invite the lie to play until you become so comfortable with it that it feels like the truth. Don’t tell yourself we’re pretending to be a couple to make Steve jealous, tell yourself that I love you. That I want you more than anyone.” Stephen reeled him closer and ran a hand up the back of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. “If you can convince yourself it’s true, you can convince anyone.”

He spun Tony around the floor again as the music changed to an upbeat swing dance. Bright dresses and twirling dancers seemed to cover the dancefloor with imitation magic as Tony and Stephen continued to whirl and twirl until everything spiraled into light laughter and haze, sharp cologne and fingers weaving through his hair. And for a moment Tony dipped his imagination into the treacherous fantasy that Stephen had described.

He remembered the first few months in which Tony had known Stephen. He’d thought the doctor was insolent and too clever, yet distractingly handsome. He could be devilishly mischievous and intellectually challenging, irritatingly nosy and charmingly careless.

In short, he and Stephen were uncannily similar. Yet it was his own lack of trust that had prevented them from growing closer. If he were not so isolated, he might have even wondered what it would be like to flirt with Stephen, what it would take to make him blush.

Then, for the sake of their charade, Tony imagined Stephen had felt the same attraction, and that from the moment they had their first battle of wits, Stephen had known he’d wanted Tony more than he’d ever desired any other person in his life.

Tony pretended love was a place he wanted to visit and tested out a flirtatious smile.

Stephen dazzled him with an uneven grin.

“I knew you could do this.” He brought his mouth to Tony’s ear and kissed the tip of it tenderly, as soft as the brush of a whisper. His chest fluttered as Stephen’s mouth dropped lower, and he kissed him again with a little more pressure, lips lingering at the delicate corner of his jaw and his neck. Tony’s fingers curled into Stephen’s back.

The music around them surged, violins dancing with harps and cellos in a decadent and debauched rhapsody, threatening to transport him to another time and place.

Every person outside the dancefloor was still watching them spin with rapt interest. The ballroom teemed with eager eyes and sneering mouths.

“Maybe we should give them something to really gossip about.” Stephen’s knuckles brushed his collarbone, drawing Tony’s attention back to him. “Unless they still frighten you.”

Tony gave him a wild smile, even as his heart leaped against his rib cage. He needed Stephen to know that he could do this. “They’ve never frightened me.”

“Care to prove that?” Stephen’s bright eyes fell to her mouth.

A dare.

The blood in Tony’s veins surged hotter.

Tony didn’t usually think before kissing anyone. One moment he just found their mouth on top of his, or his on top of theirs, followed by tongues seeking entry as hands fumbled around his body. But he didn’t suppose kissing Stephen would be like that. He had a feeling this surgeon’s hands knew exactly what to do, where to touch him, how hard to press. And Stephen’s lips—they were being playful now, but he didn’t know if they would be gentle with his mouth or a little rough, and Tony’s pulse raced at the thought of either possibility.

Stephen cupped his cheek and twirled her in another circle. “Help me convince them,” he whispered.

Tony didn’t know why he hesitated.

It was just one kiss.

Tony slid his hand up to Stephen’s neck. His skin felt colder, shivering beneath Tony’s fingers. Clearly Stephen was not as serene as he appeared.

“It seems as if you’re the one who’s nervous now,” Tony teased.

“I’m just hoping you won’t think of me differently after this.” Then Stephen’s mouth was crashing against Tony’s. He might have moaned against Stephen’s lips as his tongue slipped between his own and explored.

Every solid inch of him pressed against every piece of Stephen. His fingers knotted and tugged at his curls. Stephen’s hands roamed over Tony’s jacket, discovering the firm muscles of his lower back. It was the way people kissed behind locked doors and darkened alleys, not a kiss for lit dance floors where everyone in the city could see. Yet Stephen didn’t seem to care.

After what seemed like an eternity, they broke apart.

Tony swore he’d never witnessed so many intentionally loud whispers, covered up with artificial smiles, as partygoers pretended not to be scandalized by Stephen’s and Tony’s kiss. Though one person did not appear to be hiding how he felt. Steve.

Tony’s already mangled insides twisted further.

Steve stood casually with one elbow propped against a thick metal bar at the side of the room, but the rigid set of his jaw, the hooded sweep of his gaze, and the derisive line of his lips told Tony that he was far from calm. He looked furious.

Steve’s reaction shouldn’t have angered him. And his kiss shouldn’t have angered Steve, given that the blond was more than partly responsible for this mess.

“I think he still believes you’re his.” Stephen’s pale skin gleamed brighter as he stroked a thumb under his chin, looking as if he were coming up with a truly terrible idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all from Legendary, a great amazing book/series if I haven't mentioned that enough yet!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I'VE BEEN AWOL
> 
> I'm trying to figure out what to do with this story and I just needed to take a step back.

If Steve had expected Tony to live up to his suave, playboy persona on their first date, the man had certainly hidden his surprise well. Tony had been a complete disaster the entire night, so uncomfortable with himself that he had kept telling Steve that he didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. Tony had loved Steve Rogers from a far for a while, but now that something was finally happening, he was determined to mess it up on purpose before he could end it on accident.

By the time they had made it to the restaurant Tony had considered calling the Iron Man suit and fleeing to somewhere in the Caribbean. He’d been thinking of ways he could explain to Fury that he had to quit the Avengers due to embarrassment when Steve had pushed him gently against a wall.

“I don't know if anyone's ever told you this," Steve had begun. He didn’t blush, and his eyes didn’t dart away. Instead Tony had found himself staring into a pair of oceans. "You're very attractive."

Tony had been complimented on his appearance countless times before. But never in Steve’s tone of voice. Of all the things Steve had ever said, he didn’t know why this caught him off guard. But it startled him so much that without thinking he had blurted out, "I could say the same about you." He paused. "In case you didn't know."

Tony’s pulse had been rapid but looking into Steve’s sincere eyes he’d suddenly lost all insecurity from his past and fear about the future. He’d broken into a grin, slipped a callused hand into Steve’s and they made their way to the restaurant.

Later that night Tony had made Steve laugh so hard that root beer came out of his nose. The adorably mortified look on Steve’s bright red face had almost made Tony choke with laughter.

It didn’t end with a kiss — they had talked about taking things slow — so instead Steve walked Tony to his room and said, “This was one of the best nights of my life.”

A breath escaped Tony. _God, I want you. I need you. I’m not worthy of you._

Steve opened his mouth in shock — so did Tony, since he hadn’t intended to say that out loud. It was a habit he tried to avoid.

Steve took Tony’s face in his hands and looked him right in the eyes. “You are worth everything to me.”

It was better than a kiss. 

* * *

 

The memory shattered around Tony and he registered how mad Steve looked. He watched as Steve set his drink down and got up from the bar. Tony’s stomach dipped, and his heart might have flipped, the same way it always did when he saw Steve.

Tony was barely aware of the fact that he had grabbed on to Stephen for some kind of support. It was not enough. Sensing this, Stephen slid in front of Tony, blocking Steve’s path. He had to peer around the doctor’s shoulder to see where Steve was.

“I can handle this if you want.” Stephen’s voice was a discreet rumble, yet it still held its mischievous tone. _He is enjoying this_ , _he was enjoying flaunting me in front of Steve_. Whether it was to make Steve jealous, or to show that Tony was okay, or to make a fool out of him, he didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful.

He didn’t know anything now, except the fact that Steve was walking toward him, looking angry, hopeful, uncertain and jealous all at the same time. He didn’t know what to do.

Tony had tried his best to get over Steve. He had really tried.

He wished that love could be simple, that it was always given and returned in the same measure, equally and at the same time, that all the planets aligned in a perfect way to dispel all doubts, that it was easy to understand and never painful.

But when it came to Steve, even his soul managed to hurt.

He didn’t know how he felt anymore. Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky. They had certainly loved each other, and they had been happy together. He thought he would be spending the rest of his life with Steve, even if that meant putting up with the blonde’s insufferable optimism and righteousness.

Yet when Tony had finally — _finally —_ managed to let his defenses down and whole-heartedly love someone, he had been abandoned. He was tired of being cast aside. It was his turn to use. His turn to hurt. 

Finally, Tony knew what he felt as he stared at Steve coming toward him — it wasn’t love.

It was anger.

Stephen whispered something to Tony again, but he didn’t hear. He was too busy trying to put his emotions in check: Steve was right in front of him.

“Mind if I cut in?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello! Here is the first meeting of Steve and Tony. This is a pretty dark chapter — anger fills every word, and not much else. I think in this story reason gives way to anger, so don't expect to see much rationality from Tony. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts and leave kudos if you like the story! I'm still trying to figure out where to go, so I'll take any advice :)

Time stood still. Tony could hear nothing but the blood rushing to his head, the pounding of his heart like the bass drum in an ACDC song. Before his eye, everything good he and Steve had experienced together rushed around him, the images quickly polluting into a dark muck of everything horrible. Wasn’t this what happened when you were about to die? The question dimly resounded in Tony’s head.

 “Mind if I cut in?”  It was only a few words, but it was anything but a simple question. All of the fear and all of hurt that he’d ever experienced had only intensified in the last two years, leaving him with the always present feeling of being eaten alive. That was because of Steve, the voices screamed in his head.

Stephen would have stepped in front of Tony, but he stopped the man, answering Steve himself. “Yes,” Tony’s voice threw razor-sharp shards of ice, “I do mind.”

Stephen’s eyes widened; Steve took a step back, knocking into a couple dancing so closely that they could eavesdrop.

Steve fumbled an apology and tried again: “Tony, you can’t—”

“I am only dancing with one man tonight, Rogers.” He sneered the last word, feeling like the name of a disease.

“Oh, you two are—are you two?” His mess of words gave Tony more pleasure than he cared to admit.

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

Steve’s eyes blazed blue — the hottest kind of fire. “Tony, you don’t have to pretend with me.” His voice was pathetic, pleading and frustrated.

“Do you hear yourself? What would I be pretending?” Tony started to arrange a sweet smile on his face, but figured Steve would know it was false. He needed to convince him this was the truth. He twisted his mouth into the sort of smirk he commonly wore in his playboy days. “When Stephen and I kissed, did it look as if I was acting?”

Steve’s intense gaze remained frustratingly level, but Tony swore a muscle ticked near the corner of the man’s jaw. The anger and need in his voice couldn’t hide his emotions though “I’m not sure what you two are doing, but I don’t believe you could just get over what we had together. I haven’t and you haven’t either.”

“Believe it,” Tony commanded. “Believe that someone else could love me, believe I’ve forgotten who you are — that’s how insignificant you made us.” Coldness swept over Tony’s skin, he imagined his words sinking into Steve like claws. “Stephen and I may not be together _yet,_ but do not think for one second that I will ever come back to you.”

     “We need to talk about —”

“You’re right.” Steve’s eyes widened. “We need to talk: we have a lot of work to do on the Accords, so you are more than welcome to schedule a meeting with me at the Compound. But as for me and you in any other setting except professional? We are done.” Tony’s voice had grown louder, and he could feel the crowd’s eyes crawling over him.

Ignoring Steve’s protests, Tony stormed out of the gala, pulling on a dark purple pair of glasses and calling for his car. He tried his best to ignore the small crowd of people who had followed him out of the building, just waiting to see what he would do next. The press hollered an onslaught of prying questions at him.

Beneath his sunglasses Tony kept his eyes closed as tightly as he could, but in his mind, everyone looked like Steve, Bucky and his father — and they sounded like them too.

 _I hate you all._ He imagined his hands at their throats, choking, silencing them, one by one. He wanted peace and quiet.

Something stirred inside him; his breath started to come in ragged gasps.

He felt Stephen’s hand on his shoulder and heard his voice, but he didn’t know what was being said or how long it took them to reach a limousine, but it startled him when they did. He’s was so disoriented that he couldn’t open the door. Stephen did it for him, all the while making it look natural, like Tony wasn’t having a meltdown. Amidst his dark thoughts, Tony couldn’t be more thankful.

As soon as they reached the compound Tony fled to his room, ignoring the fact that Stephen was trying to follow him. A violent shock rippled through him when he got to his room. A wave of bitter fury.

Stephen shuddered, and Tony slumped against the wall, sliding to the ground. The whispers in the darkest corners of his mind sprung free from their cages and filled his thoughts with their noise. They brought a flurry of memories, of everything he’d already relived and everything he’d fought to suppress. His father breaking his finger, shouting at him, striking him, ignoring him. That night in the rain. The Avengers blaming him for Ultron. Steve’s mouth on his. Deep blue eyes. A metal arm. The shield.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands tightly to his ears in a desperate attempt to block it all out, but the maelstrom grew thicker, a curtain of darkness that threatened to pull him under.

 _Stop. Stop. STOP._ He would destroy everything in order to make it stop. _I will destroy all of you._ He gritted his teeth as his fury swirled around him, seething and relentless, yearning to burst free. Through the whirlwind, he heard his father’s harsh whisper.

_I know who you really are. Who will ever want you, Tony?_

His fury heightened. _Everyone. They will cower at my feet, and I will make them bleed._

Then the shrieking faded. His father’s voice vanished, leaving memories of it trembling in the air. He stayed on the ground, his entire body shaking with the absence of his unexpected anger, his face red with exertion. Strange kept his distance. They stared at each other for a long time, until Stephen finally walked over to help him to his feet. Stephen gestured at the chair next to the bed. Tony sat gratefully, soaking in the sudden peace. His muscles felt weak, and he could barely keep his head up. He had a sudden urge to sleep, to dream away his exhaustion.

After a while, Strange cleared his throat. “Something blackens your heart, Tony, something deep and bitter, so strong it rivals even my power. It has festered inside you for years, nurtured and encouraged. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

His father was the one who nurtured it. He shivered, remembering the horrible illusions he’d seen throughout the years after Siberia. Even now, in the corner of the room, his father’s ghost lurked, partially hidden in the shadows. _He’s not really there, he’s an illusion, he’s dead._ But there was no mistaking it — Tony could see Howard’s silhouette waiting for him, his presence cold and haunting.

Tony looked away from Howard, lest Strange think that he was losing his mind. “What…,” he began, then cleared his throat. “What is there to do about it?” He wouldn’t deny it, he knew that there was darkness inside of him, but he didn’t let it affect him. Much. “I’m trying. I am a good person. I am—I am cleaning this mess up.”

Strange gave him a somber nod but stayed silent.

What could be said to a man who was losing his mind to darkness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tons of Marie Lu Young Elites


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! A big thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos!
> 
> It's approaching finals week for me, so updates might become a bit more sporadic. Thanks for understanding!

A week and several boring events and requirements later, Stephen and Tony walked to yet another meeting.

“And you’re sure I have to lead these things?” Tony asked.

“You ask me that before every meeting.” Stephen sighed fondly. “You know the answer.”

They were almost to the door, but Tony was still in denial. “Maybe I’ve chosen to forget.”

“Denial does seem to be one of your strengths,” Stephen grinned, though he wasn’t joking. Tony grimaced and came to a halt in front of the room.

Stephen watched in wonder as Tony transformed in front of him. His shoulders straightened and his posture moved from tense and weary to loose and confident. He wiped his face with his fingers and as his hand came down, his fatigue went with it. His arm popped as he reached up to slap Stephen’s shoulder. “Time to Carpe the hell out of this diem.” He grinned and strode into the meeting.

It was disturbing how good Tony was at this charade.

Stephen took a breath and followed him in; Tony was already talking. “Okay everyone, let’s get through this quickly. If you turn to where we left off, the second section of the chapter, page 73, is mainly for those of you with equipment.” Tony was standing at the front of the room while the rest of the Avengers sat in the plush swivel chairs around the table.

“You’re going to have to pry my wings off of my dead body if you want to take them from me, Tony.” Sam snarled at him; Tony continued on, unphased.

“Well if you’d bother to read the introduction, you’ll see that I won’t be touching anyone’s body — no matter how nicely you ask.”

Stephen leaned up against a wall at the side of the room. He couldn’t help but observe that beneath Tony’s defiance was fear. He himself knew what it was like to say the clever thing because you didn’t want anyone to know how scared you were.

“What a surprise” Wanda scoffed. Stephen could see the insult rising to her lips. She was rolling it around on her tongue like a piece of hard candy. But before she could continue Steve interjected with a warning to stay quiet that sounded an awful lot like a disappointed father.

Tony nodded at Steve in a faint thanks. His mouth smiled but the expression did not touch his eyes, as if it were just another part of his costume. Steve didn’t seem to realize that Tony’s gesture of appreciation was not a real one. It was amazing to Stephen to think that Tony had actually been in love with a man that seemed so oblivious to his state of mind.

But none of his so-called teammates attempted to make anything easier for Tony. They all watched him with hawk-like eyes, looking at Tony the way a child might ogle his younger sister’s doll right before chopping off all its hair.

Or its head.

Stephen broke free from his thoughts. Tony had moved on to the next segment of the meeting, now covering a list of required events that the Avengers needed to attend.

He read the report like a eulogy.

Stephen’s eyes flickered across the room, taking in everything they could, and landed on the Black Widow. Natasha Romanov. Stephen had yet to get a read on her, she’d been strangely quiet throughout their encounters, her lips always pressed tightly together, but her face otherwise perfectly devoid of emotion.

Tony had mentioned to Stephen that he’d once thought Nat was concerned about all of the currents of tension that ran through the team, but as time went on, he’d seen that barely suppressed conflict didn’t bother her in the least. She liked it just as well as open espionage.

Stephen didn’t know what to think, but he would be keeping close tabs on her.

He tried to regain focus on the topic at hand. Clint had just been reassured that he would be able to keep his bow and all of his other toys and was laughing at a joke Tony had cracked. The two of them seemed to hold the least amount of tension between them, even though they had fought on opposite sides. Clint had a family to protect, and for some reason that factor made Tony excuse all of Clint’s actions. Stephen filed that away for further scrutiny.

The meeting finished relatively quickly and with only a few more jabs and glares. They filed out of the room, with the exception of Steve, who lingered behind with the hopes of talking to Tony. Stephen narrowed his eyes and blocked the soldier’s path. Tony was gathering all of his papers, seemingly oblivious of, but most likely just choosing to ignore the showdown that was occurring.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but Stephen beat him to it. “Don’t,” he cut in, “Your apology will not heal his wounds.”

“You can’t guard him forever, Strange.” Steve growled in a low voice.

“Pining doesn’t look good on you, Steve.”  

Rogers stalked out of the room, failing to catch Tony’s eye on the way out, who was most likely pretending to not have noticed their conflict.

Stephen rubbed at his neck. Steve was not one to give up easily, and when he did manage to find Tony alone—

He shuddered to think of the possibilities.  


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone so long — life has been getting really crazy. I'll try to post more!
> 
> I did just write a one shot that I posted recently. It's a short read and I'd love to hear all of your thoughts about it!

When the Avengers had first moved in to the tower Tony had been grateful; it was too easy to be lonely in his giant, empty tower. He had felt as if he was getting a second chance at a family, and he would have done anything for his family. But time passed, and things changed. What little trust they had between each other which kept them all together had been destroyed by Ultron – by himself. After Sokovia, things had never gone back to normal. He had felt trapped at the compound, surrounded by people who didn’t trust him – people he desperately needed on his side.

If he had thought that was an impossible living situation – this was unimaginable.

Now, he was forced into countless meetings with people who hated him, and at the turn of each corner he braced himself to face an Avenger who had something else to blame him for.

This morning he had practically ran into Wanda in his attempt to make it to his office unnoticed. He had covered his face with a fake smile, apologized and let her know that Steve and the others were training later that afternoon. When his usual word vomit ceased, he moved on. “Run away, little man,” she had drawled at him after giving him a look of death.

It had gone that way for a week now. Feeling suffocated from encounters with his old team that left him feeling hollow and cold.

But what they didn’t realize was this: Yes, they frightened him, but he had always been scared. He was raised by a man that abused him, reared in a land of disappointment and fear. He lived with that fear, let it settle into his bones and ignored it. If he didn’t pretend not to be scared, he would hide under his down covers and silk sheets in his empty mansion forever. He would lie there and scream until there was nothing left of him. He refused to do that. I will not do that.

They were wrong about him. He didn’t desire to become one of them, to be a part of the team. He did not yearn to be their equal.

In his heart, he yearned to best them.

This evening he was in the meeting room to prepare for the next day, when he had the nauseating feeling that he was being watched.

“Can I do something for you, Rogers?” he gritted out, not bothering with any pleasantries.

“Hey, Tony.” Discomfort engulfed the area. The room wasn’t large by any means. Steve was by his side in two steps, and Tony was in a full panic in two heartbeats.

He quickly stood up, not trusting Steve and himself to be that close. Steve’s eyes widened a bit, in their doe-like innocence, but he smiled hesitantly. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

Tony knew exactly what the super soldier wanted to talk about, but he wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Did I not cover something well enough in the meeting?”

“Oh — what? No. It’s not about that.”

“Then I’m not sure how I can help you, Rogers” Tony moved to gather his paperwork.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice sounded pained.

Good, he thought.

“Tony, could you please look at me? Please?”

Tony set down his work with a bit more force than necessary. “Why, Steve? What could there be left to talk about? There’s nothing left between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Steve’s voice cracked, and he carded his hand through his hair nervously. “I’m sorry for what I did, don’t you understand? I screwed up and I’m sorry.”

For a long while, Tony was silent. He rolled Steve’s words around his mind. If he were a better man, he would find a way to forgive Steve. If he were a better man, he would admit to his own mistakes and make amends. But Tony could not find an ounce of forgiveness left in his body.

“That’s not enough, Steve. It will never be enough.” His voice was tired and simmering with the rage that he felt.

“What more do you want!?” Steve shouted in an outburst of exasperation. He took a few deep breaths and Tony took the opportunity to do the same. “I didn’t enjoy not telling you the truth, Tony. But it’s hard to stop once you start.”

“Is that how it is with you? You spend so much time lying you can’t tell the truth?” The words came out sharper than Tony intended, but to his credit Steve didn’t bite back.

“Tony, please. We both made mistakes, and I don’t know what else to do. What do you want me to do?”

I have nothing left to give you, Steve. You need to accept that I can’t love you anymore.”

“No matter what you think you can do to push me away, Tony, you should end this, before you get hurt.”

“Are you threatening me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” Steve shouted, and then tried to regain his composure, “Nothing, Tony. Just tell me what you want me to say. I’ll do anything. I still love you, and I’ll do anything.” His voice trembled with his attempt to hold back tears. “After everything between us, Tony, you at least owe me this.”

Tony thought of all the things he would never say, all the things he wished they all knew. He had pretended to be okay for so long that he was sure he could do it for longer – he could do it forever. His father’s ghost smirked at him from the corner of the room.

_But why should I?_

“I don’t owe you anything,” he spit out. “But I’ll tell you what I want.” Tony marched forward, forcing Steve to take a step back. “I want you to stay the hell away from me and I want you to stop pretending that you care about me. I don’t know if you know this, Rogers, but when someone loves someone, they don’t lie to them and they certainly don’t abandon them to die.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Tony wasn’t done yet. “So, when I say that there is nothing left between us, I mean it. I loved you Steve, but what’s worse is that I trusted you. You ripped that away from me, and I will not make that mistake again.”

Tony’s lip curled, but otherwise he kept his expression as masklike as he knew how, as cruel and cold as the faces that reoccurred in his nightmares. It was only as he did it that he realized who he was aping, whose face frightened him into wanting it as his own.

It was the face of the two people in the room.

Steve’s and Howard’s.

Tony’s heart was hammering so hard he felt sick.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how sporadically I update the chapters—I was going in one direction with the story and it just wasn't working so I decided to take a break—I think I know what I want to do now, but school is starting up again, so just please bear with me haha. 
> 
> Thanks for all of those who leave comments and kudos. I haven't forgotten about you all!

Tony wished he could say that he felt guilty for what he had said.

But he didn’t

His chest was heaving from the exertion of his anger and he stared at Steve with daring in his eyes. Steve clenched his jaw, twisting and turning as he looked for some way out of what was happening. All his pleadings swam in the tears that glistened in his eyes.

“God, Tony you are being ridiculous! Get over yourself, because I am not giving up on you!” Steve looked like he didn’t know whether he was angry or disappointed.

Tony couldn’t help but snort. _Even when I shout, he doesn’t listen._ “Get out of the way, Spangles,” Tony growled.

“Not until you forgive me,” Steve practically shouted, stepping towards Tony. “God, you’re being so stubborn! We’re not done here!” He yelled and grabbed Tony’s shoulders, pulling him away from the exit and flinging him backwards.

Tony flinched and flew backwards, trying to escape Steve’s grasp. For a moment he was back in Siberia fighting for his life; blood rushed to his head as he stumbled backwards, crashing into the chairs behind him. He slammed into the glass table in the corner of the room with such force that it toppled over. A vase shattered to the floor.  “Get out,” he tried to say, but his voice was choked off. He sunk to the ground and wrapped his hands around his knees.   

“Oh my God, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—I—” Steve sounded agonized, like his guts were being torn straight out of him. Tony watched as Steve press his fist against his mouth, heard him try to clear his throat, but he couldn’t get another word out.

Steve took a step toward Tony, then backed away, then repeated the motion. Tony’s eyes were trained on Steve’s every move.

“Stop watching me like that!” Steve shouted, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Still, Tony didn’t look away. His father loomed in the corner and the voices in his head grew louder with his own fear and anger. _Watch you’re back,_ they whispered to him, _Soldiers were made to kill monsters like you._

“Get Stephen,” Tony croaked out.

Steve’s mouth pinched at the corners. He was hurt, but he tried to cover it up, bringing his hand to his face to rub the underside of his jaw. “He’s not good for you, Tony,” he whispered, pained.

Tony’s eyes narrowed; his mood darkened.

“He doesn’t know you like I do, and he never will. He acts like he runs the place, and he acts like he adores you. But that’s all it is — acting. I don’t trust him, Tony. And you shouldn’t either.”

When Steve realized that Tony wasn’t going to answer him, he walked away. Tony didn’t know if it was the soldier or his father who had whispered, _worthless,_ when he had left.

Still, Tony sat there. He tried to fight the panic, but a sickening feeling crawled from his stomach to the surface of his skin. _You are a monster Tony._  

He instinctively brushed his hand down his arm, as if attempting to rid himself of a disease. There was no doubt that he was furious at Steve, but what he really felt, above all else, was fear. Fear for what loving Steve had turned him into; fear for what he was becoming. Of what was happening to him.

His father leered at him from the corner of the room. _I know what you are Tony._

It was more than Tony knew.   

 

 

Steve had left Tony almost ten minutes ago, but his heart was still racing. He couldn’t quite grasp the venom that had dripped off of every one of Tony’s words. He leaned against the wall, trying to regain some of his composure.

He had told Tony what he had thought the mechanic would want the hear, but apparently it would never be enough. Tony would never understand that Steve could love Tony and Bucky too. He would never understand that he had done what he had to. Steve wanted to be with Tony more than anything, but he would do everything again to save his friend, to save the one person from his past.

He squeezed his eyes shut and banged his head against the wall, relishing the distraction the pain in his head brought. A distraction from the pain of being in love with Tony Stark.

 _There is something wrong with the man._ Steve had realized that from their time together. Tony rarely had a night where he didn’t wake up screaming, he muttered to himself, and seemed to see things that other people didn’t.

But throughout all the crazy, Tony was kind and charming and funny. He tried to help other people, and he cared about people with his whole being. Steve loved him, and he wanted to protect him.

“Everything okay, Rogers?”

He fought to suppress a grimace as he was pulled from his thoughts; he knew who that voice belonged to.

After giving himself to the count of three, he cracked open his eyes and met Stephen Strange’s gaze. “Just fine, Doctor.”

Strange nodded and continued on his way a few steps before turning around and asking, “You haven’t seen Tony around, anywhere have you?”

Something hot and sharp flooded Steve’s body at Stephen’s concern for Tony. “No, I haven’t.” he said. The lie surprised him, and he sounded colder than he anticipated.

Stephen seemed to stare through him for a moment, before giving Steve a weary nod. “Alright, I’ll be on my way then.” He went to turn around but thought better of it for a moment. With a light smirk dancing on his lips he said, “We have plans tonight, so if you see him let him know I’m looking for him.”

Steve felt sick at the sound of Stephen’s cheery voice, and he silently seethed as the doctor turned to leave.

In a sudden decision, Steve hurried after the man, placing a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. His voice was pained, but firm: “Stephen, every one of his memories is laced with darkness. It is an infection of the mind. Something is very wrong with him. His sorrow has built up inside him, and the result is twisted and disturbing. He attacked Bucky, Stephen. You should be more careful.”

“You’re afraid of him,” Stephen murmured, intrigued, “or perhaps you’re afraid of your fascination with him.”

Steve’s jaw muscle twitched. “No. I’m afraid of _your_ fascination with him.”

The gray strands of Stephen’s hair caught in the light. He cast Steve a sideways look. “Tony has the ability to protect the world, maybe even the potential to save it, to get us there—even if that potential lies within darkness. We’ve all seen what he can do.” Stephen’s eyes hardened with his last words: “He has no reason to turn on _me.”_

His words pierced through Steve with a cold, sharp pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything that you enjoy is probably not mine, most likely the work of Marvel, Marie Lu, Leigh Bardugho and all of my other favorite authors.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Graphic Depictions of Violence. 
> 
> there will be the death of a child (offscreen) in this chapter. If you are trigger sensitive, stay away from the first number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I'm going to post what I have until I reach the part of the story I don't like and then I'll take a small break while I figure out what to do. I have an idea now—but I've started another story that I want to finish while I have the plot fresh. Check it out while you wait—it's called Thrimilici! Plenty of angst to keep you busy.

There were two things no one knew about Tony, he never told them to anyone. He didn’t even like to let himself think about them. Because he was a coward _._ But maybe knowing these few details about his past would make more people understand why he was the way he was. Why fear seeped into his marrow. How he learned to pretend any hope away.

 

1. 

He had been 14 when he had first killed someone. He’d been playing in the snow at his family’s lake-house when a group of kids had come up the road. Tony had seen them before and thought that he could be there friend, maybe. More than that, in a way Tony didn’t even understand, he wanted to _be_ one of them.

The leader of the group, Colin, didn’t like him though.

They had looked him over, eyeing his rich-kid attire.

Tony had looked up boldly out at the frozen river, “If you go farther than I do, you can have my watch,” his words tumbling out before he could stop himself. His watch was probably worth more than Colin’s father made in a month. It was a good deal.

The kid’s eyebrows had gone up and his expression was sly. “Do you swear?”

“On my grave.”

  
The other kids had been impressed as he and Colin had slid along the ice. Though Tony had been confident in his steps, he had lagged behind. That was fine. He didn’t actually want to beat the boy since he was certain that if he did the other kid would get ashamed or angry, and Tony wanted to be his friend, not his enemy.

He had another watch at home anyway. Jarvis would scold him, but he would not tell his father.

They had gotten several body lengths from the river bank when a loud crack echoed around them. The boy froze.

Tony had slid forward a bit more, wanting to show his bravery: “The middle is this way!”

Colin had looked back, dark eyes flashing. He’d taken another few steps and, with a shattering sound, fell through the ice.

“Hey!” Tony shouted, edging toward the break. The boy bobbed back up, scrambling for a grip on the ice. Tony dropped to his belly and scooted forward. He could nearly reach his hands, but he heard the ice beneath him weakening.

Someone grabbed his ankle, yanking him back.

“Wait!” he screamed, holding out his hands to the kid, who had leveraged himself onto his belly but could not get the rest of his body out of the water. The boy reached for Tony but was too late. The boy’s eyes widened in terror, his face as white as the ice, as Radu was pulled away.

“Wait, wait, we have to help him!” Tony had tried to scramble to his feet but another hand took hold of his ankle and slammed him down. His chin bounced against the ice, teeth biting into his tongue and drawing blood. Then he was thrown onto the bank of the river, with his father slapping his face.

“What were you thinking?” he screamed.

“We have to help him!”

“No”

“He will drown! Let me go!”

Howard picked him up by his collar, shaking him. “You could have died!”  
“He will die!”

“He is nothing! Your life is worth a hundred of his, you understand? Never risk it again for someone else.”

Howard was still shaking him, jarring his head, so he could not see the river, could not see whether or not Colin had made it. He tried to look back but Howard grabbed his neck and forced him to keep his gaze forward.

Later that night Tony had realized that was the first time Howard had ever let Tony know that he was worth anything. And Tony would have done anything to take it all back.

 

2. 

 

When he was with Steve, before everything had happened, Tony had wanted to show Steve how much he loved him. He didn’t know how to show that kind of love to somebody because it had never been shown to him. But after two and a half years of being together with Steve he needed to find a way.

So he had made a ring. Buying one was overrated.

He had put more work into that ring than some of his suits. It was a beautiful mixture of cobalt and vibranium, engraved with an intertwining symbol of their initials. He had thought about putting the shield and the arc reactor on it instead but decided that wasn’t right. Captain America and Iron Man were there for the world. Steve and Tony were there for each other.

Of course, it had been much more than just a ring. An AI program, AL, short for _always_ , was imbedded into the ring, coded to respond only to Tony and Steve’s voices. AL was a simple program, nothing like JARVIS was. But it was there so that any time of day, Tony and Steve could contact each other. They would know their location and vitals—they would always be safe.

There was even a small robot built into the band. It was microscopic—though with Steve’s vision, he could probably see it. Tony hadn’t given it a name, knowing Steve would get attached and want to name it some horrible name like Fluffy or Uncle Sammy. It was small but packed a powerful punch.

It was a ring that protected Steve, yes. But more importantly, Tony needed it to show how much he loved Steve. He had wanted to tell him that he was lovely and brave and better than anything Tony deserved. That Tony was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for him. That without meaning to, he had begun to lean on Steve, to look for him, to need him near.

He had told no one of his plan. He knew that no one would be able to keep their mouth shut. He carried the ring on his person for months, not knowing when the right moment would come. The weight of the ring comforting him whenever Steve was gone.

But he had waited too long. And somewhere in the wreckage of their relationship was a ring that would never be worn.

 

∞∞∞

 

He didn’t like these stories, they highlighted that he was vulnerable. No matter how careful he was, eventually he’d make another misstep. He was weak. He was mortal. He was worthless.

He hated that most of all.

Even if, by some miracle, he could be better than the Avengers, he would never be one of them. A hero. A fact he was constantly being reminded of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment or kudos please! They make me happy, and when I'm happy—I write.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO: the first paragraph is from Cruel Prince, and the first number is from And I Darken (both great books, read them!)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! School starts up tomorrow so wish me luck! I'll try to post as often as I can (I've got a bit more before I reach the part that I haven't figured out yet)
> 
> Thanks for everyone's comments! This chapter picks back up where Steve left Stephen and Tony.

After Stephen had slinked away from the soldier, he went on a search to find Tony. Stephen didn’t believe for a second that Steve hadn’t seen Tony, but he couldn’t quite believe the man could be so jealous. There was something unsettling about the whole conversation.

After opening portals to the various rooms of the compound he found him.

“What are you doing on the floor, Tony? That can’t be comfortable.”

Tony’s face was pale, framed by limp dark hair. Even his surprise looked dull as he noticed Stephen. “I’ve been trying out yoga – this is the happy baby. Or was it the upside down dog?” Tony flashed a smile that might have looked charming to some, yet Stephen could see there was nothing remotely happy about it.

“Can I help?” Stephen offered him a hand to help Tony up, but the man just turned his head to the side. After a beat of tense silence, Tony got up on his own but winced with the effort. White and black spots danced before his eyes. Fat beads of blood fell from his hand, leaving fresh stains on the carpet.

Tony looked down in shock, slight pain finally registering on his wrist and hand where it had landed on the crushed vase when he had fled from Steve. A long gash ran from his wrist to the center of his palm.

 “I didn’t realize I was still bleeding,” Tony lied. “I accidently knocked over the vase earlier. I should probably go and get it looked at,” he said, with no intention of doing so.

Stephen reached out and grabbed his hand, “I can take care of it.” He yanked off his tie; his movements were terse, but his hands were excruciatingly careful as he fought to steady them, and he pressed the fabric to Tony’s fingers.

Tony’s breathing hitched.

Stephen shouldn’t have been touching him so tenderly, or pulling him closer with every movement, _and I shouldn’t be letting him._ He should have pushed Stephen’s slender hands away. Growled at him as he slowly wrapped the warm silk that had encircled his throat around his bleeding hand.

“I really don’t need your help.” Tony yanked his hand away, freeing it from the silk and spattering his t-shirt with blood as he broke Stephen’s spell before it could be fully cast.

Stephen looked as if he wanted to reach for him. If Tony’s legs so much as swayed Stephen’s way, he imagined the doctor would capture him in his arms and hold him so close that he’d willingly confess his every sin and secret.

But he honestly didn’t care. Like Steve had said, Stephen was just acting. Playing a role. Just like they had done at the dance.

He forced himself to take a step back.

A vein throbbed in Stephen’s neck. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Maybe I don’t want your help!”

Another bead of blood dripped to the floor.

Stars joined the spots in front of Tony’s eyes. And before he could take more than one step back, Stephen was there, holding his wrist once more, and maybe holding Tony a little more together, as the doctor finished the job he’d started.

Tony wouldn’t admit it to him, but he felt a little less light-headed as Stephen’s wide, warm hands wrapped his bloody hand inside his tie.

“I’d let you go, but you just admitted you need help.” Stephen’s voice was softer than before.

Tony groaned in defeat. “You looked like a private school dropout in that tie anyway. I’m doing us all a favor.”

“I was at a press conference, earlier.” Stephen explained with a grin, but it faded quickly. “I have some unfortunate news, while were here.”

“What’s new.” Tony muttered bitterly.

 “Sorry,” Stephen chuckled softly. “Ross thought it would be a good idea to hold a tournament.”

 _Fuck._ “And why did he think that would be a good idea?”

“Friendly competition?” Stephen guessed halfheartedly “I think he’s just trying to give the media another show, trying to show them how we’re all a team again.”

“Like there wasn’t enough competition already.” Tony groaned. “Couldn’t he just replay the security tapes at the airport?” Tony ran his good hand through his tangled hair. “Fine. No problem — I can fight any one of them. I did it before, right?”

“Right.” Stephen gave him a weak smile and they walked out of the office together, not mentioning how poorly it had gone the first time.

“Are we sure I can’t just tell him to fuck off? I think that might be a better solution.”

Stephen smiled, a soft, sad thing. “That’s not the bad part Tony.”

“Of course not,” Tony groaned, trying to focus on the pain of his hand then the cruelty and pain of Stephen’s words: “You’ll be facing Wanda first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Legendary in this chapter!
> 
> Please leave your thoughts or kudos!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! School has started and it is c r a z y.

When someone knocked on his office door Tony thought it was Stephen. The doctor had said he was coming to discuss strategies for the tournament, so Tony figured he had come a bit early to do so.

But it wasn’t Stephen who walked through his door — it was Natasha.

“Tony.” Nat looked at him with her hawk-like eyes. Her smoky voice filled the room with the sound of his name; it was said like an accusation, an apology and a question all at once.

Tony’s pule quickened and heat rushed through him. “Nat.” He said, like it was nothing but a name.

“You’re a hard man to track down these days,” she said as she sat down at his desk.

“Last time I saw you, you insulted me and threatened me. So, sorry if I didn’t want to grab lunch with you when you got here.”

“Last time I talked to you, we had both fought with the people that we loved — we weren’t exactly in the right state of mind.”

Tony’s jaw clenched, “It isn’t my fault you couldn’t pick a side. You were so accustomed to being a double agent that you couldn’t even see what you were doing.”

“And what was I doing?” Her voice was eerily calm in the face of his anger.

“You betrayed me —”

“We all betrayed each other, Tony!” Her voice finally cracking. “Or did you really want to fight everyone else? You’re telling me that you never had a shred of doubt? That you never wished you could do something differently? None of us — _none of us_ — were happy with what happened. But we all believed we were doing our best.”

He ran his hands over his face, as if he could drag away his exhaustion. “That’s not good enough, Nat. We were supposed to be a team. Steve and I were supposed to be a team.”

Nat gave him a sad smile, “Desperation can make a person do surprising things. But he loves you. Really, he does. He’d love you even if it destroyed him.”

“He’s destroyed me,” Tony chuckled morbidly; his father’s ghost leered at him from the corner.    

“I never said he was good for you.”

Tony’s mouth pinched at the corners and he nods, biting the inside of his cheek. No one needed to know that his hopes were dashed. No one needed to know he ever had hopes at all. “My father would have said otherwise. He always wanted me to be more like Captain America.” He sighed, “But I’m done with him now.”

“Don’t lie to a liar, Stark”

“I don’t lie, I just bend the truth.” he tried to joke. 

“Spoken like a typical conman.”

“Actually,” said Tony, “I prefer to think that I’m a liar in a way that’s uniquely my own.”

Nat leaned forward, holding his gaze, suddenly returning to seriousness. “You’re not the villain in this story.”

As much as Tony wanted to agree, he couldn’t. Love was illogical, love had consequences — “I did this to myself, and I should be able to take it.”

“No, Tony — you don’t have to just take it. I want you to fix things with Steve and Wanda,” she said. “Steve has all of the power. There is no winning against him. No matter how brave or clever or even cruel you are, Tony. End this, before you get really hurt.”

Tony looked at her uncomprehendingly. Avoiding Ross’ and Wanda’s wrath seemed impossible. That ship had sailed—and burned up in the harbor. “I can’t,” he told her. Was it normal to feel like you were boiling from the inside out?

“It’s a blow to Wanda’s pride, and it hurts her status, you acting like you’re not afraid of her.” Nat leaned forward and took his arm at the wrist, pulling him close. He had to fight the instinct to pull away. “Tell her that she’s won, and you’ve lost. Tell Steve you forgive him. They’re just words. You don’t have to mean them.”

 “And what would that accomplish? The rest of the team would still hate me. Wanda would still go out of her way to make my life miserable. Steve would still try to get me to forgive him.” He shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he repeated.

“Don’t fight her tomorrow,” she continued, changing the subject.

“Like that’s an option,” he scoffed.

Natasha shrugged, “I thought you were the man who defied all odds? You’ll think of something.”

“I’m not going to skip the tournament,” he told her.

“Even if it wins you nothing but more woe?” she asked.

“Even then.”

“Do something else,” she insisted. “Find a way. Fix it before it is too late.” Nat got up and moved toward the door. “Be careful, Tony,” she said. This time, though, it felt less like a threat and more like genuine concern.

“Aren’t I always?” he smiled.

“No, I think the word for how you usually are is ‘reckless,’” she smiled softly and left him to his thoughts.

Tony thought of all the things Nat wanted him to dismiss, all the things he shouldn’t say. _What I should do is continue to keep his head down. Be decent, but not memorable._

That is what he _should_ do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter featured the cruel prince and a dash of tmi. 
> 
> Please keep up the comments and kudos, they really help with my motivation and let me know that I'm not just sending this into the void!


End file.
